


Cards on the Table

by bigficenergy



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Covers episodes 3.08-3.13 plus bonus 4.01, First Kiss, Flirting, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Some Repurposed Canon Dialogue, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 16:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19276822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigficenergy/pseuds/bigficenergy
Summary: “I… feel something for you.”It's vague, but it's a start.“Um, something? Like… a general disdain, or...?”Patrick laughs. “Uh, nope. Kind of the opposite of that.”An AU where Patrick tells David upfront that he's developing feelings for him, in the interest of being honest as they go into business together.





	1. Take Charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd had this idea in my back pocket, inspired by interest (that I know lots of other people have) in the "almost" moments on the show leading up to Grad Night: what if Patrick came clean about his feelings instead of the frame, what if David stayed over in the lice episode, what if they'd kissed when the lights flickered, etc. I thought it would be a pretty straightforward thing to run with for Open Fic Night... and then it ended up being the longest fic I've written. I know this is one in a sea of new fics right now, so words cannot express how much I appreciate anyone who gets around to reading this. :)

“And in the interest of us potentially working together, I did want to come clean about something.”

Patrick Brewer is a take-charge kind of guy. He took charge of his life by moving to Schitt's Creek, finding a job and a place to live, starting a new chapter of his life on his own. He believes in Rose Apothecary, but knows that David won't reach out for the help he needs to get it to its full potential, so he's here to extend the offer himself. He also likes David. Likes him in a way he can't write off as entirely friendly. And that could get complicated, for several reasons. So, Patrick takes charge of the situation.

“Okay?” David has said tentatively. It's now or never.

“Okay. So. Cards on the table. I…”

 _Spit it out, Brewer_.

“I… feel something for you.”

It's vague, but it's a start.

David waits for more and when it doesn't come, he fiddles with the cash register parts he's still holding.

“Um, something? Like… a general disdain, or...?”

Patrick laughs. “Uh, nope. Kind of the opposite of that.”

David shakes his head a little like he's not getting it, so Patrick perseveres.

“I _like_ you. But… I'm not really in a position to be liking anyone like that right now. Especially not…”

 _A guy_ , his brain provides unhelpfully. David looks like that’s what he’s bracing for, or possibly something harsher.

“...someone I'd be working with,” Patrick finishes. “Assuming I haven't scared you off now. I'm not asking you for anything other than a professional relationship. I'd just prefer to be up front about this now instead of running the risk of it coming out later and making things weird.”

Patrick can practically see the wheels turning in David's head before he responds simply with a soft, “Okay.”

“‘Okay’ as in you still want to work with me?”

“Y-yes. Yes.”

“Okay.”

Patrick holds out his hand and David dumps the register equipment on the counter so he can shake it. He’s smiling a little uneasily, but Patrick is sure he's giving a similar uneasy smile in return, hoping it's enough to mask his disappointment over David not giving him much of a reaction to his confession. When they let go, Patrick’s heart is racing. He looks around for something he can use to break the tension, his eyes landing on the framed business license on the wall behind the counter.

“Anyway, that was just to soften the blow of what I need to tell you next.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but David looks genuinely concerned. Patrick knows he's about to go 0-for-2, but he swings anyway.

“I, um… I actually picked out that frame.”

David glances over at the framed license and relaxes. “I see,” he says with a tiny smirk. “Uh, so thank you for making it very clear that I will be making the creative decisions for the store. Um, and I guess you can handle all the business stuff.”

“I'm very comfortable with that.”

“Okay.” David picks the register parts up again. "Um, and you do know that if the grant money doesn't come through, then I won't-”

“Ohh, I'm gonna get the money,” Patrick insists, choosing to hope against hope that the look David gives him is the good kind of flustered.

\---

“I can’t believe I’m actually saying these words of my own volition, but Alexis was right,” David says as he slides into a booth at the Cafe across from Stevie.

“Hello to you too,” she says. “What are we talking about?”

“Patrick just offered to help me more directly with the store.”

“Uh-oh. If he feels the need to get that involved, maybe he _does_ think it’s a failure.”

“Okay, there’s more, so if you could please hold your comments til the end.”

Stevie mimes zipping her lips.

“He also thinks he has feelings for me.”

Stevie waits, but David doesn’t say anything else.

“Oh, was that the end?”

He rolls his eyes and nods like it’s obvious.

“Okay, well, what do you mean he _thinks_ he has feelings for you?”

“He told me he ‘feels something’ for me and that he ‘likes’ me. He doesn’t even know me that well, so how could he _like_ me? And if he did know me, he definitely wouldn’t like me. So he obviously isn't in his right mind.”

Stevie looks at him like he's an idiot before turning toward the counter and calling, “Hey, uh, Twyla? Two very large glasses of wine, please. Preferably whatever has the highest alcohol content.”

“Two glasses of our bestseller, coming right up!” Twyla chirps cheerfully.

Stevie turns back to David. "So normally, I’d say a little self-deprecation would be healthy for you. But that was a lot, even for me. You do remember that at one point…” She looks around as if to make sure no one can hear them, then lowers her voice. “ _I_ liked you like that.”

“Mhm, and you clearly have no regrets about that whatsoever.”

"We both sank that ship, but that's not my point.”

Twyla comes over to them, winking as she places the two large, very full glasses on the table. They mumble their thank-yous and each take a big sip.

“So, rewind,” Stevie says. “This guy Patrick offered to go into business with you, and he also asked you out?”

“Uh, no. He was just telling me how he felt in the interest of being honest as we enter a strictly professional relationship.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said ‘okay’.”

“‘Okay’ to what?”

“To his investment offer.”

“And what about the other thing?”

David opens his mouth, but just shakes his head.

“So he said he liked you and you said nothing? Harsh.”

“What was I supposed to say?!”

“I don't know, something to let him down easy?”

Instead of delivering another retort, David suddenly becomes very interested in his rings. Stevie's eyes widen and she grins.

“Unless you didn’t _want_ to let him down.”

“I… I don’t… what?”

“Well now you have to tell me everything about him.”

“What’s to tell? There's nothing to tell.”

“Okay, well…” Stevie downs her wine. “Then I'm gonna get going.”

“I just got here!”

“Well you're taking too long to tell me about your crush and I have an early check-in tomorrow.” She scoots out of the booth, pulling her messenger bag out with her.

“Why did you even agree to meet me then?”

“Figured I could get a free drink out of it.”

As it dawns on him that she's saddling him with the bill, she turns to leave, waving at him over her shoulder.

\---

By the time Stevie gets home, David is in the middle of blowing up her phone with texts.

 

**David**

_Ok fine so about Patrick_

_Business major who owns like 3 shirts and 1 belt_

_Too clean cut but I guess it kinda works for him_

_Like yea I guess he's cute_

_He has nice eyes_

_He's very sure of himself_

_It's kinda hot_

_Delete that it's the wine talking_

 

**Stevie**

_Saved a screenshot_

_I'll make sure to work into my toast at your wedding_

_David and Patrick sitting in a tree…_

 

**David**

_I hate you_

_Did you get home ok_

 

**Stevie**

_Yes dad_

 

**David**

_Good. Still hate you._

\---

Early the next morning, Patrick drives out to a trail Ray had told him about and sets out on a hike, hoping the physical activity will settle the buzzing in his brain.

He’s used to feeling out of sorts. He’s used to playing it cool despite feeling out of sorts. Something never quite aligned when he was with Rachel. He loved her, and so it killed him every time he could feel himself getting bored of their relationship. He thought it must be him, that he must not be cut out for a serious relationship. At the same time, it’s all he wanted. He’d dated a few other girls casually, but always fell back into it with Rachel, only to end up where he'd been before.

All the while, he carried on as well as he could. He felt like a ticking bomb with no visible wires or countdown, like something was going to have to give, but he had no idea what or when. And as much as he wanted to take up his friends and family on their offers to talk each time things ended with Rachel, he just hadn’t known what to say. So he’d just put on a smile and say he would be fine.

Liking David doesn't make him feel out of sorts. It feels easy. He’s funny and a little ridiculous, but so much smarter and driven than people seem to give him credit for, and Patrick had found that incredibly attractive from the start. He’s physically attractive, too. Patrick knows that that’s the part he should be struggling with more, but he’s just… not. He’s always considered himself open-minded, but he’s starting to think that maybe that had been a polite way of writing off a part of himself that was worth some more in-depth exploration.

Liking David doesn’t make him feel out of sorts. But he feels like it should, and that’s what’s messing with his head. And in a desperate attempt to take control of the situation, he’d just… flat out told the first man he’d ever had these feelings for that he liked him. Right as he was going to go into business with him.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

He’s not sure if it's the physical exertion of the hike, or the attempt to unpack all his thoughts and feelings that’s making his chest tighten and his head spin, but he's grateful when he finally comes to a clearing. He trudges up, looks out, and is pleasantly surprised by the beautiful, sprawling view. He takes a deep breath and his mind goes blissfully quiet, if only for a moment.

He steps back a little and finds a flat rock to sit on so he can have some water from the bottle in his backpack and takes some more deep breaths. The sun shines down, a breeze rustles the leaves in the trees above, and Patrick imagines bringing David here. He imagines David sitting here, between his legs, his back to his chest. He wonders if David would let him run a hand through that impeccably styled hair of his while they took in the view together. He wonders if David would catch his hand in his own, and what those big silver rings would feel like when their fingers were laced together.

He can't explain why, but somehow he knows he's going to be okay. He can't know what will happen with Rose Apothecary or with David, but he knows if he keeps moving forward, he’ll make it out alive. Possibly more alive than ever, because he's already getting to know himself a little better.


	2. F*ck Sebastien Raine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is on the harder end of M, includes the implied night David spends with Sebastien, and goes into some rough backstory for their past relationship (emotional abuse, coercion).

Patrick is working diligently on his laptop at home when his phone buzzes on the desk. He checks the message so quickly, he doesn't have time to feel guilty for hoping for selfish, non-business-related reasons that it's David.

For business-related reasons, it is David.

**David**

_Can you come to the store to receive some packages for me this afternoon_

_?_

 

Patrick shakes his head, but he's smiling.  


**Patrick**

_Maybe if you ask me nicely._  


Just as Patrick hits send, another message from David appears.  


**David**

_I have a family emergency._

 

"Dammit," Patrick mutters to himself, embarrassed. He texts back as fast as he can.

 

**Patrick**

_Oh, sorry. Yeah of course._

 

David replies again as Patrick is hitting send.  


**David**

_Please_

_Thank you_

**Patrick**

_Be there in 30?_

**David**

_See you soon_

\---

When Patrick gets to the store, David is holding his bag and looks ready to bolt.

“Hey,” Patrick greets him, shoving down the embarrassing onslaught of butterflies in his stomach from just the sight of him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” David says, unconvincingly. “I just have to… I have to drive Alexis to Elmdale. To see a doctor.”

“Not to be a broken record, but is she okay?”

“She will be. Once she… sees the doctor.”

“Okay.” Something seems off, but Patrick doesn't question him.

“So if you could just sign for the boxes, I can deal with labels and all of that tomorrow.”

“You got it.”

David heads for the door, but then stops, turning back to Patrick.

“I um… I really appreciate this,” David says. “I know you're already doing a lot, and I wouldn't ask if I didn't really need to-”

“Really, it's okay,” Patrick insists. “Go take care of Alexis.”

David nods, the corner of his mouth turning up in a tiny smile for a split second, and heads out.

\---

**Patrick**

_Hey. I hope everything is ok. Shipments got in fine._

_I just wanted to let you know that I was planning on coming in tomorrow anyway, so if you need_

_me to cover any shipments again, I can do that._

**David**

_That's v generous of you but I'll be coming in tmrw_

**Patrick**

_Ok. How is Alexis?_

**David**

_She'll be fine_

**Patrick**

_Good. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help._  


The bell on the door chimes while Patrick is looking at his phone.

“Sorry, we’re not actually op-”

Patrick looks up and stops short.

“Alexis. Hi.”

“Hi yourself, Patrick,” she says, shimmying her way in. Patrick’s not sure she has a setting for not-flirtatious.

“Whaaat are you doing here?” he asks, glancing back down at his phone as if he’ll find answers there.

“I’m on my lunch break,” Alexis says, posing a little in her blue scrubs. “And David promised me lip balm for helping out earlier this week. I’ve come to collect.” She leans against the counter in front of Patrick.

“He’s not here,” Patrick says slowly.

Alexis pouts. “He’s already neglecting his responsibilities and leaving you to do all the work, isn’t he? I knew this would happen. You’re so sweet and unassuming and good with numbers…”

“Unassuming?”

“You have to stand up for yourself Patrick!” she says, tapping insistently on the counter between them.

“No, Alexis, I thought…” He hesitates, almost willing to go along with David’s lie in case that’s what he needs him to do. But curiosity gets the better of him. “David said he was driving you to Elmdale today. That’s why I’m covering. But you’re here, so…”

“Oh. _Ohhh_.” Alexis’s eyes widen in realization.

“Why would he lie about a family emergency?”

“Um. So his ex is in town,” she explains, wrinkling her nose like she knows she shouldn’t be telling him. “Yeah, Sebastien Raine. He’s this hotshot photographer. They only dated for, like, a month and a half, but he really did a number on David. It was bad.”

“So he’s, what… trying to get him back?”

Alexis draws her hands back together, fingers pointed down in that way she does, giving Patrick a sly look. “Would that be a problem?”

Patrick feels his face go warm. “You said it ended badly. I just wonder why he’d want to see him.”

“Mhm, well he’s actually here to see our mom to discuss a photo shoot,” she said, brushing her her hair away from her face. “David doesn’t trust him, so he’s probably out spying on them or something.”

“Oh,” Patrick says, not meaning for it to come out like a relieved exhalation. Alexis gives him another little smirk and he says quickly, “Not that it’s good that this guy might be taking advantage of your mom.”

“She’ll be fine. She’s _The_ Moira Rose.”

Mrs. Rose’s reputation precedes her, and Patrick figures Alexis is probably right. He knows that David is probably more than capable of handling himself too, but he still worries. He already has a bad feeling about this Sebastien Raine. He sounds like a villain in a spy film.

“Anyway, is there any chance I could get those lip balms from you?” Alexis asks.

“Uh, sure. Which ones?”

“Oh, just one of each,” she says, twirling her hair on her finger and looking shifty.

“Uh-huh.” He narrows his eyes at her. “Tell you what, I’m just gonna call David and see if he already wrote those out of inventory for you…”

“Okay fine, he said I could pick one,” Alexis confesses.

Patrick smiles. Alexis had been a lot when they first met, but David had been too. Apparently it took no time at all for the Roses to grow on him. The box of lip balms is conveniently behind the counter, so he bends down and asks, “Which one did you want?”

“The mint julep. No wait, the lemon rose. Or wait, maybe the lavender…”

Patrick pokes his head back up over the counter and gives her a look.

“Mint julep, mint julep,” she decides.

He stands and hands her the lip balm. She takes it and turns it over in her hand with a little pout.

“I kind of thought maybe you were going to throw in at least one more for me,” she says with a coy little look.

“Well you know, I thought about it,” Patrick says, crossing his arms. “But someone just told me I need to stand up for myself, so…”

She smiles at that, slipping the lip balm into the pocket of her scrub top. “You’d be good for David, you know.”

Patrick’s cool demeanor slips immediately. He opens his mouth but doesn’t know what to say. Had David told her, or did she just _know_? He's left to wonder as she heads for the door.

“I hope he figures that out,” she says over her shoulder. Then she’s gone.

Patrick looks at his phone. No more texts from David. He sighs.

\---

David had thought about telling Patrick the truth, but then he’d thought of all the ways Patrick might react. Pity? Disgust? He couldn’t handle that. He also wouldn’t be able to handle it if Patrick didn’t understand why, despite all the evidence that Sebastien was a monster, his mother is still so eager to work with him. It breaks David's heart a little, but he also knows what it would mean for her. Unfortunately, Sebastien Raine carries the kind of status she’d need to re-establish herself. And to be absolutely fair, despite his post-breakup theatrics, he had actually downplayed just how bad things had gotten. Maybe if she knew what he’d done to him, she would’ve at least had second thoughts.

He checks the Cafe first, and when they’re not there, he heads to the motel to wait. His mom ends up being out with Sebastien a lot longer than he had anticipated. Eventually, Patrick texts him that he’s heading back home. David is attempting to craft a text that accurately shows his appreciation when his mother returns to the motel. Sebastien had photographed her. She hadn’t wanted that. David hates being right.

“I leaned in! I don’t know, David! Why don’t you try it sometime!”

She’s so defensive, and clearly shaken. It hurts to see her like this.

_Lean in_.

He blows out an anxious breath. He could lean in. He could, for his mother. And maybe for himself, too.

This was going to require a different outfit.

\---

The small thrill David feels when Sebastien opens the door and immediately looks him up and down quickly sours his stomach. He reminds himself that he’s in charge as he steps into Sebastien’s room.

The leather jacket David had put on is strategic. He knows how it looks on him. He wears it when he wants to be wanted. It works like a charm, even on an egotistical narcissist like Sebastien. He's already giving David a stream of non-apologies, which is a good first step for his plan.

“And while my therapist said I should never feel sorrow…” Sebastien is saying, and David can’t fucking wait to quote this nonsense back to Stevie over a bottle of wine so they can laugh their asses off.

“...I do appreciate your pain.”

“Okay.”

“And I wanna explore that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe even… physically.”

Bingo.

“Oh, well, I shouldn’t,” David says, not bothering to try for convincing.

“Oh you should,” Sebastien insists.

_Oh you should._ It’s what he’d said back when they were dating, and David had protested when Sebastien suggested that he let him take nude photos of him. They’d been naked in bed one morning when Sebastien suddenly got up and got his camera. The idea of being photographed that early was bad enough, but David was going to let him. It had been hard for him to say no to Sebastien in most contexts. Then Sebastien told him to remove the blankets he was under. _I shouldn’t_ , David had said when what he really wanted to say was _absolutely not_.

_Oh you should_ , Sebastien had said, right before making the decision for him. He’d gone back to the bed, kissed David in the deep, sensual way that made his brain go fuzzy, and then pulled the covers back. David had swallowed any further protest, fooled by the romantic connotations of the morning light falling across his bed while his lover told him how beautiful he was from behind his camera. He’d convinced himself that if the photos were just for them, it was okay.

Then Sebastien had wanted to submit them to a magazine. He’d said they were too _transcendental_ to not share with the world. That time, David had unequivocally said no. Shortly after that, Sebastien was seeing other people.

_I’m in charge this time_ , David reminds himself as Sebastien is presently circling him in the motel room. “Fine,” he says. “But I can’t stay.”

From behind him, Sebastien starts kissing his neck and running his hands from his shoulders, down his arms. David’s eyelids flutter a little. An annoying fact of their relationship was that the sex had actually been quite good. David enjoyed a more dominant partner sometimes, and Sebastien had been that. The problem was that Sebastien got off on the control to the point that David often felt embarrassed and emotionally exhausted afterwards. But he’d played along. He’s playing along tonight too, but there’s no need for a shot-for-shot reenactment now. So David spins around and kisses Sebastien, hands holding his head firmly in place. Sebastien kisses back, pushing at his jacket. David shucks the jacket off and tosses it aside. It had served its purpose.

He tries to go back in for another kiss, but then Sebastien is getting under the hem of his long t-shirt, shoving it up and pulling it over his head. David does the same, stripping Sebastien of his tattered t-shirt that looks like something Bob would use as a rag at the garage, but in reality probably cost more than some of the cars the garage has seen.

They end up in a familiar position - David facedown on the bed, Sebastien taking him from behind. David figures this way, he at least has the freedom to roll his eyes as much as he wants. Sebastien talks a lot, all “yeah you like that” and “you missed this.” Never questions, always statements. It’s very annoying, and David worries he may not even get an orgasm out of this if Sebastien doesn’t _shut the fuck up_.

He tries to drown it out, tries to imagine it’s someone else and _nope_ , that’s a terrible idea, because his brain automatically supplies Patrick as the replacement. He shouldn’t be thinking of Patrick in this context. He’s nice and actually likes him and David needs to be able to look him in the eye at work. He flips through his mental rolodex, but keeps landing on Patrick. He can’t actually imagine sex being like this with him, though. He seems like the kind of guy who would want to do it face to face, intimate and personal. He thinks of the way Patrick’s voice drops especially low sometimes, the deceptiveness of his soft brown eyes when he’s actually seconds away from poking fun at David, the little smile that comes with the teasing, his steady hands moving things around the store, leaning on the counter, pressing gently against David’s back when he has to get past him in the stockroom.

Without meaning to, David moans and pushes back into Sebastien, because now he can’t stop the thought of it being Patrick’s hands gripping his hips instead. Sebastien has no reason to think that wasn’t for him and runs with it, thrusting harder and faster until finally, he finishes.

Sebastien pulls out of him and climbs off the bed, presumably to dispose of the condom, but David hopes he’ll leave him and go straight to the bathroom. He’ll take being left wanting if it means he can get the memory card and leave sooner. Unfortunately, Sebastien’s hands are on him a moment later, turning him onto his back.

“Didn’t even need those photos to remember how gorgeous you are,” Sebastien says.

David wants to puke. “And yet you have them.”

Sebastien reaches between them and takes David’s erection in his hand, causing David to sigh despite himself.

“I could keep you here all night,” Sebastien says. “Make it last and last until you’re begging.”

David’s going to fucking lose it, and not in the way Sebastien is suggesting.

“Or…! You could blow me, we can have a drink, and then we can just… see where the night takes us,” David suggests impatiently.

Sebastien smiles. “This town has made you assertive. I like it, David.”

_I’ve always been assertive_ , he wants to scream. _I hid it because I thought you’d leave me if I didn’t, and I was right._

“If that’s what you need to heal, I’m happy to give that to you,” Sebastien says, very seriously.

“Okay, sure,” David mutters before Sebastien takes him in his mouth and finally gets him off.

\---

When Sebastien goes to shower, David pulls his underwear on and makes a beeline for Sebastien’s camera bag. He doesn’t even have it open yet when Sebastien pops back out of the bathroom. David looks at the table for an excuse for what he’s doing, picking up a beer from the pack next to the bag.

“Bottle opener?” he asks.

Sebastien smirks, going to his luggage first to get the toiletries he’d come out for, then back to the table. He pulls his keys out of the front pocket of the camera bag, holding them out to David by the bottle opener on the keyring. David takes it and Sebastien heads back to the bathroom. He doesn’t close the door right away, so David opens the bottle slowly, watching the bathroom. Sebastien comes back out with a plastic cup.

“I remember you always preferred a glass,” he says, setting the cup down on the table. “Guess this has to do for you these days.”

“Mm, yes, the struggle is so real,” he says, the obvious sarcasm somehow lost on Sebastien, who finally retreats back into the bathroom and closes the door.

When David hears the shower curtain rustle, he gets the camera, pops the memory card out, and shoves the camera back in the bag. He looks at the card, then at the open beer. He pours some into the cup and drops the memory card in, watching it sink to the bottom of the fizzy amber brew.

It's so… anticlimactic. Was this enough? Were memory cards waterproof? He might as well be sure.

He drinks the beer down, leaving the memory card in the cup. Before he fishes it out, he gets dressed, jacket, shoes and all. He shakes the card off, drops it on the ground, then steps on it hard with the heel of his shoe.

_That’s_ more like it.

He does it again and again. When he picks it back up, he’s a little more certain it’ll be useless now. He had planned to put it back in the camera so Sebastien wouldn’t know he’d destroyed it, at least not right away. But then Sebastien is re-emerging from the bathroom, damp, towel barely hanging onto his hips. David shoves the memory card into his jacket pocket.

“You’re leaving?” Sebastien asks.

“I did tell you I couldn’t stay.”

“Come on David. We only have tonight. Let’s have this out, once and for all.”

He sits on the bed and pats the space next to him. Reluctantly, David sits and listens to Sebastien talk at him, mostly about why he had no fault in the end of their relationship, for what feels like the next several hours. David zones out, nodding every now and then, though he’s not sure it would even matter if he was conscious for this conversation.

Eventually, David dials back in when Sebastien says, “I think your mother will come to understand my vision. You have an eye for art. You’ll see what I mean. Let me show you.”

Sebastien moves to get up and get his camera, and David stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to convince me,” he says. His hooks a finger under Sebastien’s towel, tugging it from his waist. “And anyway, I don’t want to talk about my mom anymore.”

Smirking, Sebastien leans in. David can’t help himself and shoves him back onto the bed. He takes off the jacket once more, carefully this time, so that the memory card doesn’t fall from the pocket.

\---

When David wakes up in the morning, it takes him a moment to remember where his is. After he and Sebastien had gone at it a second time, Sebastien had wanted to talk more, and David is pretty sure he had fallen asleep mid-conversation.

He sits up and rolls over to find Sebastien already up, getting dressed. He greets David with a cocky smile.

“Morning.”

“Uh-huh,” David mumbles, getting up and getting dressed.

“Last night was… really cathartic,” Sebastien says, standing there with his shirt unbuttoned, hands on his hips. “I felt you really letting go of your anger. That’s so good for you, David.”

“Mhm,” David says as he pulls his shoes on.

There’s a _thunk_ on the door. Sebastien goes to answer it.

“Moira!” he says, shutting the door behind him.

David pulls on his jacket and takes the memory card out of his pocket. He could jam it back in the camera and leave, but now his mom is outside, standing up for herself from the sound of it. He could make just a _little_ bit of a scene. At the end of the day, he is his mother's son.

He heads outside and puts on a bit of a show first, playing coy and walking a few steps away from the two of them. His mom will live if she feels betrayed for a moment. He’s earned at least that much.

“Give me the memory card, Sebastien.”

Leave it to her to give him an unintentional cue.

“Oh, you mean this memory card?”

The immediate look of resignation on Sebastien’s face, and the sight of his mother’s bright red lips curved into a thoroughly pleased smile make the whole ordeal absolutely fucking worth it. David tosses the busted memory card over his shoulder, leaving it and Sebastien behind.

Free of the burden Sebastien had bestowed on her, Moira gives David’s arm one final, affectionate squeeze before heading back to her room to start her day. Grateful to find that Alexis is already out on her morning run, David shuts the door to his room and collapses on his bed. He’d glanced at his phone long enough to see multiple texts from Alexis last night asking where he was, and he’s too tired to deal with her right now. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. He feels a little lighter.

A knock on his door jolts him up. He figures it must be Sebastien coming to have the final word, or maybe to threaten to try to sell the photos of him again. He holds his head high and swings the door open.

It’s not Sebastien. It’s Patrick.

He looks surprised as he stands there, holding a drink carrier with two hot beverage cups and a brown paper bag that’s probably full of pastries. They’re both caught off guard.

“Wow,” is the first word to tumble from Patrick’s mouth. He attempts to course correct. “Sorry, I mean, hi. This is um. You look nice. I’ve never seen you in leather, of course you look good in leather.”

David raises an eyebrow, wanting simultaneously to wear the jacket forever to see what else Patrick will say when his brain-to-mouth filter fails, and to lock the jacket away because it’s clearly too powerful.

“I just mean, the jacket, it’s uh… it’s nice.” Patrick looks like he’s physically biting his tongue to make himself stop.

“Um, thank you,” David says. “What’s… what are you doing here?”

“Right. So, it sounded like you were having a rough day yesterday, and I just thought I’d bring coffee and donuts to, uh, ease you into the morning. Then we could head to the store together.”

It’s a simple gesture but it’s so fucking sweet, and David feels like he can’t possibly deserve this. As if to confirm that suspicion, it’s at that moment that Sebastien exits his room on the other side of the motel office.

Patrick and David both instinctively turn toward the sound of Sebastien pushing through the door with his luggage. Sebastien looks over, glancing between the two of them and giving them a knowing, unfriendly smirk. He heads into the office to check out and David looks back to Patrick, who is staring at the drink tray in his hands.

“Oh,” he says. “So this is a last-night outfit.”

David doesn’t know what to say, unsure of how Patrick got from point A to point B so quickly.

“Yeah, um, Alexis actually came by the store yesterday,” Patrick explains, as if reading David’s mind. “When you were supposed to be with her in Elmdale. So she kind of told me what was going on, with your ex. I'm guessing that was him?”

David takes too long queuing up his apology, so Patrick continues, his next words sounding so weary. “You could’ve just told me, David.”

David bristles. “Okay, Sebastien wasn’t exactly a high point in my life. I’ve never told anyone the whole story, so I wasn’t about to-”

There’s something like guilt in Patrick’s expression now. David realizes why. It makes him angrier.

“That’s not what you meant, is it?”

Patrick bites his lip. “You know, when I told you I liked you, and you said nothing back, I thought through the possibilities. Maybe there was hope, or maybe you were just being nice. But I would rather have had you reject me to my face than go…”

David crosses his arms. “I’m dying to hear the end of _that_ sentence.”

“Alexis just made it sound like he really hurt you, and I don’t understand why you would-”

“Exactly,” David snaps. “You don’t understand. And I don’t owe you an explanation. This has nothing to do with you.”

The somber look on Patrick’s face looks so wrong, but David is too pissed to feel bad for putting it there. When Patrick doesn’t say anything more, David seals the final brick in the wall he needs between them right now.

“I don’t think you should come into the store today.”

Patrick clenches his jaw. He takes one of the drinks and hands the rest of the tray to David, who accepts it clumsily.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Patrick says, and then he's storming away.

_Fuck_ , David thinks as he slams the door shut.

\---

Patrick drives straight from the motel to the hiking trail. The shoes that he's wearing will do, and he has a hoodie in his backseat that he trades his button-down for. His backpack is in the trunk and he doesn't remember if he's replenished its contents since his last trek but he doesn't care.

The hike is a blur. He doesn’t pace himself, but he doesn't feel the consequences until he reaches his usual clearing and all but collapses on his usual rock. On the bright side, the exertion has really taken the edge off. He's not angry anymore, but that just leaves room for everything else: guilt, sadness, and fear that he's just ruined everything he had going with David and anything that could have been.

_Anything that could have been_. He’s got to stop thinking like that. It’s not fair to David to have promised he was only looking for a business partnership, and then to be holding onto hope to the point of a jealous outburst.

He roots around in his backpack, finds a partially filled water bottle, and downs the contents. Whether or not there’s anything worth salvaging, he needs to apologize.

He takes his time hiking back. He goes home, showers, changes, and forces himself to eat something. It’s late afternoon by the time he’s walking up to the store, unsure if David will even be there still. He's relieved when he is, and even more relieved to find the door unlocked.

“We’re closed,” David says when he steps in. He’s toward the back of the sales floor, the long stretch of tables separating them. David hasn’t looked up from the products he's labeling, and Patrick suspects that he saw him coming.

“Hi,” he says anyway, not knowing how else to start.

“I told you not to come in.” David still won’t look at him.

“I know.” Patrick takes a few more steps into the store. “But I owe you an apology.”

“Does your phone not work?”

“I owe _you_ the apology. Not your voicemail or your inbox.”

David finally looks up, pausing for a moment before saying, “Fine. Let's hear it.”

Patrick takes a deep breath. “I was out of my mind to make… whatever your thing with Sebastien is about me.”

“Mm, yes, yes you were.”

“I could tell you it came from a place of concern, of caring about you as a colleague and a… a friend. And that would be true, but it doesn’t excuse the way I reacted. And I am so sorry.”

David looks down at the products on the table, fiddling with them before looking back up and saying, “That was a very impressive apology.”

“Thank you. I may have practiced it on the way here.”

“Why am I imagining you drafting it on one of those yellow legal pads, crumpling up the ones that didn’t work and tossing them into an overflowing wastebasket?”

Patrick suddenly feels like he can breathe easier. He smiles. “Because you love a good cliche?”

David frowns. “That doesn't sound like me.”

Patrick laughs, but then crosses his arms and forces himself to get back to the serious conversation.

“Listen. If after all of this you’d feel more comfortable with me taking a step back, I can do that. I can work from home as much as possible, I can come in only when you're out scouting vendors-”

“Oh, absolutely not,” David interrupts. “See, I asked you to just receive the boxes yesterday, but you also labeled and organized the merchandise. And originally that made me more mad at you, because I needed work to distract me today, but _then_ , we got more orders in early, and I had time to work on those. So what I'm saying is… Rose Apothecary needs you. At full capacity.”

“Okay,” Patrick says. “Then Rose Apothecary has me.”

“Good.”

David begins to busy himself again with the products in front of him. Patrick takes another small step toward him, still leaving most of the table’s length between them.

“At the risk of overstepping again, I still feel like I should ask. Are you okay?”

David goes still for a long moment, staring at the table. When he speaks, his voice wavers.

“Uh, you know, I thought I was. But I think it's gonna be a few more showers before I actually am.”

Patrick chooses his next words very carefully.

“So… we’ve established that you don’t owe me any explanations. But if you want to talk… if it would make you feel better… I’ll listen. I won’t interject, I’ll just… be here and listen.”

David considers this for a moment. He takes a deep, uneasy breath, and clears his throat.

“He took photos of my mom. Photos she asked him not to take. He caught her off-guard and didn't listen when she said no. I couldn't let her go through what I… what he put me through. So I slept with him to get his memory card.”

Patrick's stomach is already in knots.

“Back when, um…” David's eyes are welling up, and he looks anywhere but at Patrick. “After Sebastien ended it for good, he sold some… private photos of me. To a magazine. He'd asked once and I'd said no, but I guess my ‘no’ was only good as long as we were fucking.”

David quickly wipes away a tear that is threatening to fall.

“I got a call one day from an intern at the magazine. My number wasn’t exactly listed, so she’d gone to a lot of trouble to track me down. I guess I’d signed a program for her once at my gallery, which was very random and incredibly lucky, because she’d seen a release form for my photos and didn’t feel right about how the signature looked. She sent me a picture. They hadn’t even tried to forge it. Anyway, this is the type of thing my family had people on retainer for, but I was so ashamed that I went to the editor myself to pay him off. And when he wanted more than money, I gave that to him too.”

Patrick has never been one for violence, but now he’s finding that he’d like to take a few of the glass bottles from the table next to him and smash them on the ground out back. Instead he says, as evenly as he can manage, “David, I am so sorry.”

David crosses his arms and shrugs. “I didn’t hear from him again until now. So for a while I could tell myself it had been worth it.”

“He wouldn’t… I mean, he’s not going to retaliate and try to release your photos again, is he?” Patrick has friends who went on to law school after undergrad, and he’s already thinking about who he could call.

David lets out a rueful laugh, punctuated by a sniffle. “You know, I thought about that. And then I realized, if he thought those photos had any value now, he probably would have just had them published instead of coming all the way out here to hassle my mom. I guess it pays to be nobody.”

The dam breaks and David covers his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut as tears fall. He doesn’t turn away, so Patrick doesn’t think twice, going over to David and wrapping him up in a hug. It was the right call. David wraps his arms around Patrick in return, squeezing him tight.

“I’m okay,” David croaks into Patrick's shoulder.

“I know,” Patrick says, rubbing his back. “I know.”

Patrick only lets go once David starts to pull away. He wants to reach up and help him wipe his tears away, but he knows better. And anyway, Patrick knows what David needs more than anything right now is something to break the tension.

“I’d really like to send that intern a gift basket or something,” Patrick says. “Stuff like that reminds you there are genuinely good people in this world.”

David sniffles and clears his throat. “Ah, well, she was fired for her trouble. But you can now address any gifts for her to _The New Yorker_.”

“Wow, _The New Yor_ -” Patrick stops, realizing. “You got her that job, didn’t you?”

“Mm-mm,” David says, shaking his head. “She had a very impressive portfolio. I just made sure it ended up on the right desk.”

“You’re… that’s incredible,” Patrick says, his affection for David threatening to spill over in inappropriate declarations.

“Was the very least I could do,” David says. “It doesn’t really tip the scale.”

“What scale?” Patrick shakes his head. “All you’ve told me is that you dealt with a terrible situation all on your own and still went out of your way to help someone else. And then you went through it all again for your mom? You’re a good person, David. And if that makes you ‘nobody’ to Sebastien Whatever then, quite frankly, he can go fuck himself.”

That startles a surprised little laugh-sob from David. “Wow. I didn’t think that word was even in your lexicon.”

“I save it for special occasions. So people know I mean it.”

“Mhm.” A hint of David’s signature smirk is returning to his face. “And what other occasions would that include?”

The question is almost flirtatious. In fact, it would definitely be flirtatious under different circumstances. Words suddenly feel like jumbled Scrabble tiles in Patrick’s head.

“Um, well, mostly just to tell my business partner that his ex is an asshole,” he finally says.

David gives a little scandalized gasp. “You must really, really mean it.”

“I do,” Patrick says seriously. “You deserve a hell of a lot better that guy.”

There’s a moment where Patrick panics, worrying that that seems to imply that he himself would be better for David. David either doesn’t notice, or chooses to let it slide.

“You know, you said you weren’t going to interject, but you’ve interjected quite a bit,” David says, leaning one hand on the table and putting the other on his hip. He’s being purposely bratty. Patrick recognizes the behavior and knows he probably shouldn’t find it so endearing of this grown man, and yet…

“You’re right, I’m very sorry,” Patrick says. “Which parts would you like me to take back, the mean things I said about whatshisface, or the nice things I said about you?”

“Mm, well, it’s all out there now,” David says, gesturing in the space between them. “So I suppose we’ll just have to let your interjections stand.”

They smile at each other, the prolonged eye contact making Patrick’s heart beat wildly. He has to look away.

“So… if we’re good here, did you want some help for the rest of the afternoon?” he asks.

“Oh. Actually, um… I’d kind of expected to have the whole day to sulk by mysel- don’t laugh!” David calls Patrick out when he has to bite back a smile. “You wanna talk about what I deserve, I deserve at least one full day of wallowing. But I could use your help tomorrow.”

“Okay. I’ll come in tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Everything in Patrick’s body wants to reach out one more time, but he forces himself to turn and head for the door. His hand is on the doorknob when David speaks again.

“Oh, and um…”

Patrick turns to look at him.

“I just… just for the record, I…” David pauses. “I, um… I don’t take my coffee black.”

It takes a second for Patrick’s brain to catch up and remember the coffee that he’d brought David that morning. It seems like so long ago.

“I see,” Patrick says. “And how do you take your coffee?”

“I take a caramel macchiato, usually. Skim milk, two sweeteners. And a sprinkle of cocoa powder.”

“Got it,” Patrick says, tapping his temple with a finger.

“Really?”

“No. But I probably won’t be bringing you coffee very often anyway. I’m your business partner, not your intern.”

“Well that’s too bad, because as you know, I have a real soft spot for interns.”

Patrick smiles. He likes David so much and he’s so relieved he hasn’t done irreparable damage to their partnership. David has turned back to his work now, though, and Patrick furrows his brow.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I take my coffee?”

“You don’t drink coffee. You drink tea.” When Patrick doesn’t say anything, he looks up to find him looking surprised. “What? You tuck the tea bag label into the sleeve of the cup, but sometimes you can see the string poking out.”

“That’s quite the eye for detail you’ve got there.”

“I’m very observant.”

“So are you going to ask me what kind of tea I drink, or…?”

“Tell you what,” David says, impatient but still with a hint of amusement. “I will go on a cafe run for us tomorrow, and you can tell me if I get your tea right.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Patrick says. He opens the door. “I just hope you don’t pick one that I’m deathly allergic to.”

He grins, not needing to look back to know that David is throwing his hands up in frustration.

\---

David lays in bed that night, exhausted but otherwise feeling monumentally better than he had that morning. He hadn’t meant to unload his entire tragic past with Sebastien onto Patrick, especially not after completely unwarranted jealousy had momentarily reared its ugly head. But it had been so easy. Maybe it’s because Patrick is still new in his life and there was less stake in telling him these things. Or maybe it’s because he wants them to be closer, wants Patrick to know him. The latter is a terrifying notion, but given that David nearly slipped and reassured Patrick that his feelings were reciprocated before using the coffee thing as a cover, it seems like the most likely reason too.

He was too emotionally raw today to give Patrick that confirmation. Once his wounds were stitched back up, who’s to say he wouldn’t have regretted the confession? The store has to be his priority. He couldn’t bear for this endeavor to fall through because of a failed romance.

That doesn’t mean he can’t text him a little, though.

 

**David**

_So am I actually in danger of killing you if I pick the wrong tea?_

**Patrick**

_No, I was kidding. The only thing I’m allergic to is cats._

_Sorry._

_Do you have any allergies I should be aware of?_

**David**

_Nothing confirmed but I’m becoming wary of pitted fruits_

**Patrick**

_Better safe than sorry I suppose._

**David**

_Don’t laugh at me_

**Patrick**

_Wouldn’t dream of it._

_Forgot to ask. Any notes on my donut selection this morning?_

**David**

_Selection was good_

_Quantity left something to be desired_

**Patrick**

_Noted._

_Who knew you had such a sweet tooth?_

**David**

_That’s hardly the most interesting thing you learned about me today_

**Patrick**

_It’s definitely the only thing I plan on exploiting. ;)_  


David beams at his phone. It was the exact right thing for Patrick to say, and then something had possessed him to punctuate it with that ridiculous winky face. David likes him so much.  


**David**

_What preteen girl just hijacked your phone?_

**Patrick**

_I regretted it instantly._

**David**

_Maybe you’re delirious_

_Better head to bed_

**Patrick**

_I think you’re right. I’ll see you tomorrow._

**David**

_Goodnight_

_;)_


	3. Sleeping Arrangements

They get back on track. David makes the creative decisions for the store, and Patrick handles the business. When things overlap, they find they work really well together. And if a glance lingers a little too long, or a playful jab carries a suggestive connotation, one doesn’t call the other out. It’s as if they both figured out exactly where the line is, pulled a couple of lounge chairs right up to it, and settled in. For a while, they live there comfortably.

Then Alexis brings lice home from school.

Patrick learns this when he gets to the store one morning, and David is talking to a woman with dark hair. She’s cute, and looks like she’d punch him if he ever told her so. And she’s in the middle of giving David shit about the body milk. This must be Stevie.

“I've heard a lot about you,” Patrick says when he shakes her hand. Stevie comes up a lot in conversation with David, to the point where Patrick had eventually inquired about whether or not they were an item. David confessed that they had tried once, but it hadn’t worked out. It’s clear that she remained important to him, even if he didn’t really say it in so many words.

“None of it is true,” she says dryly, and yeah, Patrick gets why she’s David’s closest friend.

“Oh well, anyone with a ‘fiber of common sense’ would know that,” Patrick quips, using David’s own turn of phrase.

Stevie looks surprised and delighted. “I like him,” she says to David. She turns back to Patrick. “I like you.”

“Okay, is this how this is gonna go?” David asks. “Because we have way too much work to do today for me to feel attacked by way of an imbalanced social dynamic.”

That’s when Patrick spots the shower cap under David’s hat and learns about the lice.

“Oh, he doesn't have it, I checked his head,” Stevie clarifies. “I think the shower cap is more of a fashion choice at this point.”

“But you're living with somebody who does have lice, so just ‘cause you don't have it now, doesn’t mean that you couldn’t get it tonight, or tomorrow, or whenever.” Patrick is rambling, and he knows exactly what terrible idea he’s barreling toward.

“It's almost as if you want me to get the lice,” David accuses.

“I don't want you to get it, I just… I think you should be careful.” And then, despite all better judgment, he hears himself say, “You can crash at my place tonight if you need to.”

“Thank you,” David says, though his eyes look as though they’re asking, _What are you doing?_ “But Stevie offered her place this morning.”

“Oh, gosh, was that today?” Stevie says, smacking the side of her head. “I forgot. My… cousin is coming to stay at my place tonight. So I guess I won’t have room for you after all.”

David clearly doesn’t believe her, and frankly, Patrick doesn’t either. But he’s not sure why she’d be lying now if she’d already agreed to it. Unless…

“Oh, and um, which cousin would that be exactly?” David asks.

“...Bree” Stevie says as if she’s coming up with the name on the spot. “You remember Bree. Yeah, she’s bringing the baby too, it’s gonna be a whole thing.”

Patrick looks between them, not really sure what’s going on, but decides to take the opening. He shrugs at David. “Offer still stands.”

“That's very generous of you, Patrick. I feel so bad that I can't accommodate David,” Stevie says.

 _Okay_ , Patrick thinks. _She definitely knows_.

After a moment, David caves. "Okay yes, I will take you up on your very generous offer."

“Great!” Stevie says. “Well I'm gonna go, let you two sort out sleeping arrangements.”

“You came here to help out today!” David says.

“I will be helping by testing this very misleading product,” Stevie says, picking up a bottle of body milk.

“Oh don't forget,” Patrick says. “That's milk. _For your body_.” He gestures down the length of his torso.

“Right,” Stevie says. “But not in the way that milk that you drink is also technically… for your body.”

“Obviously.”

“This is really fun for me,” David mutters.

\---

**David**

_Do you have any idea what you've done???_

**Stevie**

_You spelled thank you wrong_

**David**

_I didn't want this!!!_

**Stevie**

_You'd rather spend the night with me than with the boy you have a crush on?_

**David**

_Ok aside from the fact we're trying to keep things professional_

_I asked where he lived and he said a “live-work” space_

**Stevie**

_Sounds right up your alley_

**David**

_That was his way of saying he lives AT RAYS_

_Because he lives and works there_

**Stevie**

_Hahahahaha omg_

**David**

_He thinks he's so cute_

_Funny_

_He thinks he's funny_

_Stop laughing!!!_

**Stevie**

_Not a chance_

_This is so much better than I expected_

_Do they share a room? A bed? Who’s gonna sleep in the middle?_

**David**

_Stop_

_He has his own room_

_He insisted that I take his bed_

**Stevie**

_I bet you fought him hard on that_

**David**

_The alternative was an air mattress. I put in the minimum polite protest._

**Stevie**

_He could probably sense the princess and the pea vibe_

**David**

_Idk what that means but I’m not into being called a princess_

**Stevie**

_What do you think Patrick is into?_

**David**

_Ok g2g byeee_

**Stevie**

_Look on the bright side_

_I'm sure neither of you will wanna make a move with Ray there_

_My plan has been foiled :(_

\---

David insists on heading to Ray’s late, close to when Patrick would be going to bed, in order to be as little of an imposition as possible. When he arrives, he’s still wearing the hat and the shower cap. Patrick smiles as he lets him in.

“I think that look is gonna catch on.”

“Yes you're very funny,” David deadpans. “I had to go back to the motel to get my stuff. You wouldn't be laughing if I had contracted the lice and then infected you with them. Besides, there's the whole hat hair situation now.”

Patrick looks around the room. “Well, Ray’s out playing poker so it’s just me here. Not sure who you feel the need to impress.”

It’s purposely cheeky, which is risky in this weird situation, but the banter between them is so natural at this point, it’s hard to reel it in. David gives him the same poorly-suppressed smile he normally would, so Patrick figures he’s safe.

Dropping his bag, David removes the beanie and the shower cap, running his hand through his hair to try to give it back some volume. He looks at the headwear and gasps dramatically, dropping it.

“There's a bug!” he exclaims. “I got the lice! Fuck!”

It would be in incredibly poor taste to laugh, so Patrick bends down to pick up the shower cap, hiding the grin on his face.

“Are you sure? They're pretty small, I don't know if you'd really be able to see-”

“Don't touch it!” David is scratching at his head now. “You'll get them too!”

“There's fuzz on here from the hat,” Patrick says calmly, turning the cap over in his hands. “Is that what you saw?”

“I… I don't…” David leans closer to Patrick to look at the cap, then leans away again. “I don't know, maybe, I…” He groans, scratching again. “But I'm definitely itchy!”

“Okay, that’s probably because you’ve been wearing a plastic shower cap and a wool beanie all day. Buuut,” he adds when David gives him a death glare, “I can check for you if that would make you feel better.”

That's how David ends up sitting in a kitchen chair with Patrick standing behind him, combing his fingers through his hair. Patrick wants to do this forever. David's hair is surprisingly soft, despite the product it must take to maintain his usual coif, and his shampoo carries some sort of nice, woody scent. He knows that looking for bugs in a person’s hair isn’t the most romantic scenario, but he can’t stop thinking about how easily he could turn David’s face with a gentle hand on his cheek, just enough so he could lean down over his shoulder and kiss him. He imagines David’s hand cradling the back of his head, their mouths opening to each other as the kiss progresses, turning heated.

While lost in these thoughts, one of Patrick's fingers grazes David gently behind one of his ears, sending a full-body shiver through him. He draws his shoulders up and he exhales audibly.

“Sorry,” they both say.

“Are you finding anything up there?” David asks, voice a little high. “Your silence is making me nervous.”

“Oh, well I assumed you were playing this up for free scalp massages,” Patrick says, scrambling for a joke. “I’m indulging you. Even though you already got Stevie to do this.”

“ _That's_ funny. You've now met Stevie, you really think that was pleasant? She was much rougher than you.”

 _Don't say it_ , Patrick thinks, but his mouth is already running. “So what you're telling me is you prefer a gentler touch.” He punctuates this by running his fingers up the back of David’s head into the longest strands of his hair, the fingers of his other hand running along his scalp where he’s moved his hair away, barely keeping up the charade of looking for lice.

“Depends,” David sighs, tipping his head a little into Patrick's touch.

“On?”

“The person. The place. The position.”

Patrick draws his hands away, blushing. David sits up straight, but doesn't turn to look at him.

“The situation!” David says. “The situation… is what I meant to say.”

Patrick clears his throat. “You’re fine. Your head is fine. No lice.”

\---

David excuses himself to the bathroom to change and wash up, while Patrick heads to his room to change and get the air mattress set up.

He sits on the floor in his pajama pants and t-shirt, attaching the electric pump to the mattress and turning it on. The loud whirring feels like an extra blanket of privacy as he lets his mind wander again. Looking up at the bed, he thinks about laying in it with David, kissing him, running his hands up his sides, under his sweater. He’d want David to roll on top of him, want to feel his solid weight on him as he runs a hand through that silky soft hair again. He wonders what it would be like to feel David hard against him, pressing their hips into each other…

“Ahem!”

Patrick twists around to see David standing in doorway with this bag and shoes in hand. He’s now wearing gray sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and an unzipped black hoodie.

“I don’t think it’s working!” David says over the whirring. He gestures at the air mattress with the hand holding his shoes.

Patrick looks back at the air mattress. If anything it should be overfilled now, given how long he'd been daydreaming. Instead, it’s still mostly flat. Patrick checks that the pump is connected properly before standing and fussing with the mattress itself, but to no avail. He turns off the pump.

“Must have a leak somewhere,” he says. “It’s fine. I, uh… I can sleep on the couch downstairs.”

David comes into the room, depositing his bag on the chair in the corner and placing his shoes on the ground next to it.

“If by ‘couch’ you mean that old leather loveseat, I don’t think so,” he says. “You’ll wake up in the morning and have to peel your crooked spine off of it.”

“Well unless you’re volunteering to sleep on it, it’s gonna have to do.”

David purses his lips, then tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut, bouncing a little nervously.

“Okay,” he says, opening his eyes. “We’re adults, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“And we’re friends now. We’re adult friends, who are committed to our professional relationship. We need to sleep, and there’s one bed.” He gestures at the bed. “It’s big enough for two, something I never would have said before I was forced to live in a motel and sleep in a twin bed every night. My point is, isn’t it the mature, sensible thing to do to just… share the bed?”

“Well when you put it that way,” Patrick scoffs. When David doesn’t laugh, Patrick’s eyes widen. “Oh you… you’d be okay with that?”

“Only if you are,” David says earnestly.

“Um… yeah. Yeah, that’s… we could do that.”

\---

Patrick packs the air mattress away and goes to brush his teeth. When he comes back, David has taken off his hoodie and claimed the right side of the bed. He lays curled on his side, blanket pulled on up to his waist, scrolling on his phone. Patrick closes the door and goes around to the other side of the bed.

“Can I turn this off?” he asks, hand on the lamp switch.

“Mhm,” David says without looking. Once his light is out, David puts his phone on the nightstand on his own side, and turns off his lamp.

Carefully, Patrick gets into bed, laying with his back to David’s. They’re not touching, but Patrick can still feel David, warm next to him. He lets out a little “hm” before he can stop himself.

“What?” David asks.

“You’re like a furnace.”

David tries to scoot further over. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. The room gets cold at night anyway.”

“Even in the summer?”

“Mhm. I didn’t want to tell you this, but uh, I’m starting to think the room might be haunted.”

“You know you’re probably right. But judging by the decor, we’re probably only dealing with the ghost of a sweet little old lady.”

Patrick bites his lip. “Ray decorated this room.”

David lets out a small snort. “Oh _no_.”

They both giggle quietly, like boys up at a sleepover past their bedtime. Once they settle again, David says, in a low, soft voice that makes Patrick's stomach flutter, “Goodnight, Patrick.”

“Goodnight, David,” he replies, though he has no idea how he’s going to get to sleep tonight.

\---

_It’s Christmas. Patrick is sure it was summer just yesterday, but it’s definitely Christmas today. He’s sitting cross-legged in his pajamas next to the Christmas tree, like he used to when he was a kid. His parents are there, and he knows his cousins will be over later too. He can feel the warmth of the fireplace nearby, and he can smell the pine._

_There’s a knock on the door. He’s suddenly nervous and he doesn’t know why. He watches as his mother goes to answer it. When she opens the door, David is there with an armful of gifts. He sees Patrick and smiles warmly at him. Patrick opens his mouth to say something, but the room is beginning to melt away…_

Patrick wakes slowly, but doesn’t open his eyes. He knows he was dreaming, but he’s warm and comfortable and he can still smell pine. Something tickles his nose and he turns his head away from it.

Awareness begins to creep in. He’s laying on his back. There’s a warm weight against him, on his shoulder. He turns his head back into whatever had been tickling his face, and opens his eyes. He’s met with a forest of dark hair. David’s hair. Because David’s head is resting on his shoulder. When he inhales, he realizes the scent of the tree in his dream was the scent of David’s shampoo. He looks down his body and sees one of David’s hands, resting low on his stomach. There are layers of bedding between David’s hand and his body, and he can’t decide whether he’s relieved or disappointed.

He should move, but he doesn’t want to. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to wake David, and definitely not because of his own selfish desire to soak up the coziness of their current position.

David stirs and Patrick panics. He closes his eyes and wills his heartbeat to slow down, lest David hear or feel it. David’s hand flexes and then Patrick feels his head turn up like he’s looking at him. For a long moment, he doesn’t move, and Patrick wonders if he should “wake up.” But then David is carefully extricating himself and getting out of bed. Patrick waits until the bedroom door opens and closes before opening his eyes again. He sits up and looks around. David had taken his bag, shoes, all his things with him. Down the hall, he hears the shower turn on.

Patrick lays back down. It’s much earlier than he'd had expected David to get up. Was he trying to make a break for it before Patrick woke up? Had he felt awkward waking up like they did? As much as that’s something he’d like to do again with him, intentionally, he didn’t want David to feel uncomfortable.

He gets out of bed and heads to the kitchen.

\---

The coffee is nearly finished brewing and Patrick is sipping the tea he made for himself when he hears David coming down the stairs. He pokes his head into the front room from the dining area.

“Hey.”

David jumps and spins around. He was clearly planning to head out.

“Hi,” he says. “I was um… I didn’t want to disturb yours or Ray’s morning routine, so I was gonna head to the store early to work on… stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Patrick says skeptically. “Well, I just made some coffee, and I promise it wouldn’t be an imposition if you wanted to have some before you go take care of… stuff.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, I'm not sure we have enough sugar in the house to make it drinkable for you, but we can certainly try.”

David makes a face like he wants to glare, but he’s having to fight a laugh to do it. He sets his bag down and follows Patrick to the kitchen.

“I've always thought it was funny that we judge people who prefer to drink coffee that tastes pleasant rather than people who enjoy it in its natural, bitter, barely potable state,” David says, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter as he pours coffee into the mug Patrick had set out for him.

“Why bother drinking coffee at all then?” Patrick asks, getting the milk and sugar out for him. “Might as well just melt down a milkshake and drink that.”

“Have you ever had a milkshake with espresso? If it was socially acceptable that _is_ what I would drink all the time,” David says, fixing his coffee. “You're very judgmental about this for a tea drinker.”

“I drink coffee sometimes,” Patrick says, watching David spoon a predictably comical amount of sugar into his coffee. “I even like a little sugar every now and then.”

“But your general preference tends toward acrid,” David says, hiding a smirk behind his mug as he takes a sip from it.

“Plenty of teas are actually sweet on their own if you have a discerning palate,” Patrick jabs right back, mirroring the way David leans against the counter.

“Oh and I suppose yours is very discerning?”

“Sure. I can tell when a good, strong tea is also sweet.”

Patrick knows he's not just talking about tea anymore. David looks like he suspects this, but he doesn't seem deterred.

“Mhm, well that’s one way to go. I simply prefer my morning beverage to be hot and sweet up front. And yes, it has to be coffee. Coffee is bold. And I need something that’s gonna keep me up.”

David takes a sip of his coffee, eyes fixed on Patrick. Patrick is pretty sure David isn’t just talking about coffee, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. He takes a sip of his tea to stall.

“I think you missed your calling as a copywriter,” he says finally.

“Well, if the store goes under, I’ll have that as a backup.”

Patrick tilts his head. “David, we’re doing fine, the store isn’t gonna-”

David shushes him with a finger in front of his face. “Please just… I can’t afford to get my hopes up. I need the possibility of failure to be ever present or I won’t be ready if it happens."

David drops his hand away, but it feels like they’ve moved in closer to each other. Patrick looks up at him with a soft, sympathetic expression and says, “Hope is good, David. You can have hope. We’re in good shape.”

“Well, historically speaking, high hopes have just meant falling further. So I’m gonna let you hold onto that hope. For us.”

Patrick is pretty sure David isn’t just talking about the store. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to reach out somehow, to reassure David, but he’s not sure what the appropriate move is. Should he place a comforting hand on his shoulder? Should he hug him?

Subconsciously he knows what he wants, because what he ends up doing is glancing down at David’s mouth. It’s quick, but long enough to catch the way his lips quirk into a smile. The space between them is shrinking. Patrick isn’t sure which one of them is moving, and he’s still not really sure what to do once the gap is closed. They don’t get a chance to figure it out.

“Good morning you two!” Ray says, coming into the kitchen. Patrick and David both jump and each take a step back.

“Good morning,” they reply in flat unison.

“I was thinking omelets this morning,” Ray says, oblivious, as he goes to the refrigerator. “Would either of you like one?”

“No thank you,” Patrick says, as David asks, “What were you going to put in them?”


	4. Wild and Miswired

Preparing to open the store keeps them busy. It also keeps them in each other’s space.

They both know exactly what they’re doing: hands brushing when they reach into a box of goat milk soaps at the same time, David leaning in over Patrick’s shoulder as Patrick shows him how to use the POS system, Patrick brushing bits of packing peanuts off of David’s sweater. Anywhere they might come into contact with one another, they do.

They cool off a little in the few days leading directly up to their launch party. David is anxious, and Patrick doesn’t want to exacerbate that. The only problem is that when David is this distracted, he walks right into Patrick’s setups a lot more easily. It’s a difficult thing to resist. Like when Patrick helps himself to a juice that David had first helped himself to from their stock, and David goes into this whole thing about Patrick having a clean mouth. Patrick’s not even sure David realizes that he’s suggesting that he’s put thought into the state of his mouth. When David asks for the juice back, it’s just too easy.

“No, you have a sloppy mouth,” Patrick says.

He doesn’t mean it. He’s thought a lot of things about David’s mouth and “sloppy” wasn’t one of them. But the way David freezes for a second is worth the gag.

He does it again when David comes back from picking up lunch, fretting over how far the word has spread about their once-exclusive friends and family discount.

“Looks like this soft launch is firming up a bit, huh?” Patrick says.

“But it’s not supposed to be firm.”

“Well, with this many people it’s definitely at least… semi-firm.”

“Okay, well, as long as it doesn’t get hard. And that’s something- that’s what I just said to you, so…”

There’s only so much Patrick can do about the smile _that_ pulls out of him.

On the big day, Patrick is a little nervous too. All the loose ends are tied up, namely the lights the electrician never came to finish, and the matter of insurance. With nothing left to keep him busy, he worries about making the money they need to get the store off the ground.

But David hadn’t been kidding about word getting out. Patrick gets in early and there’s already a short line forming. By the time David gets in, the line is wrapped around the building. Patrick tries to joke about it, but David looks like he might start to panic for real.

“David, relax,” Patrick says, gentle but adamant. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Still looking for potential issues, David notices the lights behind the register, remembering that he never called the electrician back. Patrick flips them on.

“I watched a lot of YouTube tutorials,” he explains.

“This is very impressive,” David says softly, with a little smile Patrick is sure he’ll replay in his head later. For now, David needs to know they’re ready to do this. He asks as much.

“Open the doors,” Patrick answers, adding a teasing, “ _softly_.”

“Okay,” David says with a disapproving but amused look he has been too stressed to give Patrick for almost a week now, and Patrick just knows he’s going to do great today. David flips the “closed” sign to “open” and unlocks the doors.

The turnout is better than Patrick had expected, for either a soft launch or a grand opening. They even have to cut the initial line off or else risk a fire code violation. It’s a lot of people on the floor all at once and soon, Patrick has to leave David to ring up their first purchase. He’d hoped to give David the honor, but he’s currently absorbed in a conversation with someone about their selection of coffee beans. Patrick makes sure to print a copy of the receipt, stashing it in the drawer under the register to give to David later.

Once Patrick is behind the register, he isn’t able to leave again for a long while as customers begin lining up to pay. He steals glances at David whenever he can, always finding him speaking easily and knowledgeably with the customers, on-brand or not. He catches David’s eye just after he’s finished talking to Roland and Jocelyn, and even then he smiles back at him, looking proud and content.

When there’s finally a momentary lull, David joins Patrick at the register, leaning against the counter with his back to him.

“You doing okay out there?” Patrick asks.

“Mhm,” David says, nodding. “Just wanted to check in with the numbers guy.”

“The numbers are gonna be good. Even with the discounts, we’re on track for a pretty solid first day.”

“I still can’t help thinking we forgot something,” David says, crossing his arms and scanning the room.

“Oh, yeah, actually, we forgot to pick a date for our actual grand opening. Or rather you did, since you were still _oscillating_ between two dates.”

David tips his head back and squeezes his eyes shut.

“You know, some people find a diverse vocabulary attractive,” he says, likely remembering that Patrick had also teased him about this particular word choice back when they first met.

“And I’m sure those people would be lined up around the building for you if our customers weren’t already doing that.”

“Who’s to say there isn’t overlap? Those women browsing the candles were very taken with my descriptive language and product knowledge.”

“Those two women with the wedding rings who are holding hands and are clearly married to each other?”

“Couples like me, it’s a whole thing.”

“Okay, David?”

David looks over his shoulder at him, smiling with his lips pressed tightly together.

“About the grand opening?” Patrick continues, leaning in closer. “I was thinking… we could just consider this our grand opening. I know it’s not what you wanted, but I think there’s been enough interest that we could open tomorrow, and then take Sunday to regroup. I know you wanted more time, but I just think, why kill the momentum?”

David sighs. “It’s just that I was really looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow after all of this.”

“I can open if you can be in by 10.”

Looking away from Patrick, David tilts his head like he’s thinking about it, then looks back at him over his shoulder. “Okay fine.”

“Good. Because I already told some people we’d be open tomorrow.”

David gasps. “Without consulting me? What is this, are you going rogue?”

“It was a business decision. You said I’d be making the business decisions.”

“I believe my exact words were ‘ _handle_ the business _stuff_ ’.”

“Ah yes, that diverse vocabulary of yours in action.”

David narrows his eyes and bites his lip and Patrick tries very hard to hold his gaze, even though it’s making his heart beat dizzyingly fast. They’re interrupted by the couple they’d just been talking about, who have made their candle selections. David thanks them for coming in and then leaves them to check out with Patrick.

“We honestly can’t wait to come back here,” the shorter of the two women says as Patrick bags their purchase for them. “How long have you two…?” She trails off, nodding over toward David, who is straightening out items on some of the shelves.

“Oh, we met when he came to file his paperwork for the store, but I didn’t actually join the venture until more recently,” Patrick says. When neither of the women reply, he looks up to find them looking at each other.

“I actually meant…” the first woman says. “We just thought that you two…”

“ _She_ thought,” the taller woman interjects. “I told her not to assume. Even if you two look very… cozy with each other.”

“Oh,” Patrick says softly. “Yeah, no, we’re not uh… we’re just business partners.”

They look at him knowingly and Patrick is sure he’s blushing. He hands them their bag.

“Well,” the first woman says. “I wish you all the best with the store, and with…” She tilts her head toward David again.

“And we will be back,” the second woman says, nudging her partner warningly. “Honestly, this place is amazing.”

“Thank you, we look forward to seeing you again,” Patrick says. He and the first woman share one more little smile before the couple heads out.

\---

By the end of the day, the store is a mess, but Patrick feels accomplished. He sips on a cup of the leftover wine while David does a slow lap around the store, not to tidy things up, but to take in the proof of the day’s success. He looks so content. Patrick doesn’t want this day to end, for either of them.

“Congratulations, man,” he says, going in for a hug.

David opens his arms to him. “Congratulations to you.”

It’s just a hug. It’s a hug he’s really going for, wrapping his arms tightly around David, hands spread open against his soft, zebra-print sweater. David holds tight to him in return, one of his hands rubbing his back.

It’s just a hug. Friendly affection for a job well done.

As if sensing that the day is over, the lights Patrick had installed behind the counter flicker and go out, taking out the rest of the lights in the store through some sort of electrical domino affect.  Plunged into darkness, they pull apart in surprise. Neither of them backs away entirely, their hands still on each other.

“I can fix that,” Patrick says, looking up and around into the dark.

“Okay yeah, I was just gonna say that, that might need fixing.”

They look back at each other. There’s enough light from the streetlamps outside for each of them to see the other break out in a grin. David’s smile begins to fade first, as he appears to notice their proximity. There’s an intensity in his gaze again, like earlier when Patrick had been teasing him. Instead of pulling away, Patrick slides the hand he has on David’s side up a little, and squeezes his other hand where it’s placed on David’s upper arm once, gently. David follows suit, doing Patrick one better by sliding the hand he has on Patrick’s upper arm to his shoulder, then from his shoulder the the side of his neck. His thumb brushes along Patrick’s jawline. Patrick tilts his head up a little, his gaze dropping to David’s lips. Time is slowing to a stop, and if there is air left in the room, Patrick’s lungs can’t find it.

“Can I?” David asks.

Patrick looks him in the eye and nods. David closes the remaining space and kisses him, and just like that, Patrick can breathe again.

From head to toe, he feels lit up like a carnival ride, like fireworks in the night sky, like a number of other metaphors he’ll think of when he’s not busy being kissed by David Rose. Patrick has always liked kissing. It was fun, it felt good, and it had always felt more comfortable doing that than the other things that sometimes followed. And yet, it had never, ever felt like this. David kisses him full and drawn out, tasting a little like the cupcakes they’d put out for the party, though Patrick isn’t sure when he’d had time to have one. He can smell that amazing, woody scent of his shampoo again, or maybe it’s his cologne. David’s stubble scratches a little against Patrick’s face as he pulls back, his hand dropping back to his shoulder.

Patrick stares at David, not a single word making itself available to him to say. What can you possibly say when the Rubik’s Cube of your life is suddenly solved? David gives him a little bit of a nervous look.

“That bad?”

Patrick gets with the program, shaking his head and leaning in to kiss David again. David smiles against his lips before kissing back with a little more pressure and urgency. Patrick wraps his arms back around David and leans into him, causing David to stumble back a little. He reaches out for the table next to him to steady himself. Before Patrick can pull away to apologize, David’s other hand is on his lower back, turning them so that David is leaning back against the table, and Patrick his pressed up against him, his back to the front door.

Both of David’s hands are now sliding down to Patrick’s back stopping when his fingertips hit his belt, and pulling him flush against him. The feeling of being pressed against David’s flat, solid chest is new and exhilarating and he can’t get enough. He slides a hand up the back of David’s head, through his hair. For a moment, it seems like David is going to pull away, but then he’s kissing Patrick’s jaw, then down his neck. One of his hands comes up to pull Patrick’s collar out of the way, giving him access to more skin. Patrick gasps, eyes shut and head tipped back, his hand tightening in David’s hair. He can’t remember the last time he was this turned on.

And then, as quickly as they’d gone out, the store’s lights all flash back on at once. Patrick opens his eyes to the now overly-bright store, awareness also returning to him. His grips on David’s arm and in his hair are so tight, and he realizes that he’s in danger of revealing physical evidence of his arousal where he’s pressed up against David’s body. He lets go, pulls out of David’s hold, and takes a few steps back, eyes averted.

“Sorry,” he says, shocked by how rough his voice sounds. He clears his throat and looks up at David, which was a mistake because his usually perfect hair is disheveled, his lips are noticeably pinker, and his eyes are dark and unfocused. Patrick is desperate to throw himself back into his arms.

“Um,” David says in a low whisper. “For… for what? Was that not… did you not want…”

“No,” Patrick says, and David’s eyes widen. “No, I mean yes! Yes, I wanted… that. I just… I didn’t mean to react like that.”

David clearly isn’t following, and the thought that kissing Patrick has left him a bit scrambled too is a little bit thrilling.

“Like, um, like what?” David asks, brow furrowed. “Enthusiastically?”

“That’s a nice way of saying aggressively,” Patrick laughs. “I don’t know what came over me, I just… I’ve been wanting to do that for… and you’re just… your sweater is so- so soft, and you smell like _Christmas_ , and I just…”

The sweetest smile is now spreading across David’s face, and Patrick’s rambling comes to a halt when David pushes himself away from the table so he can go put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders, rubbing them reassuringly.

“Well I, for one, have no complaints,” David says. “So…”

As he’s leaning back in to kiss him again, Patrick blurts out. “I’ve never done that before.” When David looks confused, he clarifies, “With a guy.”

“Oh.” David’s hands slide off of Patrick’s shoulders and he puts a little space between them. “Okay…”

“I’m not…” Patrick knows something needs to be said here, and he hopes he manages the right words. “I’m not confused or trying to test the waters with you. It’s nothing like that. I never would have told you I liked you if I hadn’t been sure. I guess I just… I didn’t realize exactly how different it would feel. How much I’d been missing.”

David’s expression is soft, almost sad, his lips parted like he wants to say something, but he’s not speaking. Patrick is suddenly embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “That was a lot. This was a big day for you and I went and dropped this on you, and I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Us.”

“What?”

“This was a big day for us,” David corrects.

Patrick knows he means the store opening. He wants him to be referring to everything else too.

“So, um… why don’t you head home for the night, and I’ll finish cleaning up here,” David says.

Patrick’s heart sinks. “I don’t want to leave you to do that on your own.”

“Well, you did offer to open so I could sleep in,” David reminds him. “It’s the least I can do. It’s been a long day.”

David’s tone is kind, but Patrick is still worried. “Can we talk tomorrow?” he asks, not liking how unsure he sounds.

But David just smiles and nods. “We can talk whenever you'd like.”

“Okay.”

Patrick goes to the back to get his bag. When he comes back out, David is busying himself with cleaning up the wine and leftover snacks.

“Just, um, make sure to turn all the lights off when you leave, and I’ll take a look at the wiring tomorrow,” Patrick says, heading for the door.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, David.”

“Goodnight, Patrick,” David replies, with one more reassuring smile.

\---

**Stevie**

_Sry I couldn’t make it today. Hope it went well._

_I actually mean that btw_

**David**

_I kissed Patrick_

_The launch was a success_

_And I kissed Patrick_

**Stevie**

_!!!!_

_Tell me everything!!!_

**David**

_I can’t I have to finish up at the store_

**Stevie**

_Come over when you’re done_

_Bring wine_

\---

“Tell me everything,” Stevie says again, the moment she opens the door to let David in.

“Hold on,” David says, handing her the wine he brought and looking around. He’s somehow never seen her apartment before. “This is a lot nicer than I expected. For some reason I pictured you living underground.”

“In, like, a bomb shelter?”

“Yeah, like bomb shelter aspects. Look at what you’ve done to this place! Look at all this stuff! Look at that frame on the wall that you put there! Look at that Sarah McLachlan poster!”

“Don’t be dissing Sarah McLachlan,” Stevie warns him as she opens the wine in the kitchen.

“Who’s dissing Sarah McLachlan? I followed Lilith Fair for two summers.”

He sits at the little table next to the kitchen and Stevie joins him with two glasses of wine, and the rest of the bottle.

“So?” she prompts.

“So the launch went well and wasn’t a disaster despite most of the town finding out about our friends and family discount-”

“Oh my god, _David_.”

“Okay! We’d closed up shop, he hugged me - he’s a _very_ nice hugger, you know, he hugs you like he means it. And then the lights went out and it was dark and he was right there, holding onto me and I kissed him. And he kissed me back. We may have made out a little. We definitely made out.”

“Wow. You’re basically living in a romantic comedy.”

“Mhm, all that was missing was the perfectly timed swell of a Chantal Kreviazuk song.”

“So are you, like, together now?”

“Um, it’s complicated,” David says, playing with the stem of his glass. “He told me after that he’d never kissed a guy.”

Stevie blinks in surprise. “Really? Telling a guy straight-up that you have feelings for him isn’t exactly the move of a guy fresh out of the closet.”

“I’m not sure he was actually in the closet. It almost sounded like he just… hadn’t known.” He takes a sip of his wine, waving his hand as if to push the thought away. “Anyway, it’s not my place to speculate. He seemed overwhelmed, which is not a look I’m used to on him. So I sent him home before either of us could say or do anything we might regret.”

“And he was okay with that?” Stevie asks skeptically.

“I don’t know! I didn’t have time to text you for approval!” David snaps. “I told him everything was okay. At least I think I did. I tried to _convey_ that everything was okay. We’re going to talk more tomorrow.”

Stevie sips her wine, a mischievous smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “And the kiss? How was that?”

David smiles, squeezes his eyes shut, and then has to cover his face.

“Wooow,” Stevie says.

“Yeah,” David breathes, dropping his hands back to the table. “That may have been his first kiss with a guy, but it definitely was not his first kiss.” He picks up his glass, looking at it as he swirls the wine around. He opens his mouth to say more, but shuts it again and just shakes his head, smiling.

“God, look at you. Gross,” Stevie says, but she’s smiling too.

“Speaking of gross,” David says, turning a mischievous smile of his own on her, “why do you have _two_ toothbrushes by your sink?”

\---

Patrick could really use a hike right about now.

Unfortunately, it’s too late for that, so he just heads back home. Once in his room, he collapses on his bed. He touches his fingers to his lips, his other hand rest on his chest as he remembers the feeling of kissing David. He really hadn’t meant for their first kiss, if it ever happened, to be so… fervent. But it had felt so good and right and _god_ , he wants to do it again.

At the same time, his brain is telling him to pump the brakes. This was new territory for him, and he wanted what he said to David to be true: he didn’t want to use him to figure things out. He feels sure that there’s something real there... but after spending so long living in uncertainty, can he _really_ trust himself to know that?

Eventually, he changes, brushes his teeth, and gets into bed properly. But there’s no way he’s going to get much sleep tonight. David kissed him, and he’s more awake than he’s ever been.


	5. All Roads

The extra time to sleep in ends up doing David little good, as equal parts hope and anxiety keep him tossing and turning all night. He doesn't have a great track record with relationships, and while Patrick has proven he can hold his own with David, at his core he's so _nice_ and _sweet_ , and David fears he'll eat him alive if he's not careful.

When he gets in at 10am, having left early enough to pick up coffee for himself and tea for Patrick, the store is already bustling and there’s a line at the register. Patrick looks up from the transaction he's in the middle of, his eyes pleading for help, and David's hopes of putting his best foot forward with the offering of tea and a kiss on the cheek are dashed.

Before David can even put his things down, he's accosted by Roland, who is looking for more of Mr. Hockley’s “tea”.

“When word got out about your discovery, we sold out,” David tells him. “And we will _not_ be picking it back up.”

“Aw, come on, Dave. A hip place like this, seems like something that would be right up your alley.”

“Absolutely not! We are _maybe_ considering some CBD items, but-”

“Psh, where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh my god, I will give you Mr. Hockley’s card! Can you just- excuse me!” He pushes past Roland so he can head to the back. On his way, he sets Patrick’s tea on the counter next to him and gives his arm a quick, apologetic squeeze.

By the time things wind down, David has found his way behind the register, and Patrick is working on a stock list. David notices that Patrick’s tea hasn’t left the spot where he’d placed it, which shouldn’t be a big deal, but his stomach drops anyway.

“Did I, um… did I get the tea wrong?” David asks when Patrick has circled to the table in front of the register.

Patrick looks up from his clipboard. “Hmm? Oh, no, I just had to have coffee in order to get going this morning. Anymore caffeine will make me jittery.”

“Mm, right, of course,” David says, trying to mask his relief. Patrick still picks up on it.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t sleep well and it was so busy this morning… anyway, thank you for the tea. It was a nice gesture.”

David nods. “So. You didn't sleep much either?”

Patrick smiles and steps closer so he can lean against the counter. “Been up since 5. Been thinking about stuff. Last night.”

David doesn't want to ask, but he has to. “Regrets?”

Patrick's face falls. “What? No, why would I have regrets?”

“I don't know, I think it's just a habit to ask.”

“No no no no. No regrets. No, I feel good. I feel like a weight has sorta been lifted off my shoulders.”

Hope swells bright and dangerous in David's chest.

“It's all very new, you know, and it's a lot to process,” Patrick continues. “And I hoped we could… continue… this. I’d just like to, you know, take it slow.”

“Absolutely,” David says. He leans in closer, forearms on the counter. “So when you say ‘continue this’ and 'slow'...”

They’re both smiling as Patrick leans in, but before their lips can touch, the bell above the door jingles and a gaggle of young women spill into the store. They part hastily.

“We can talk about this later.”

“Yeah, mhm, absolutely.”

\---

The numbers say that opening today was a good call. Patrick's body is telling him the opposite. It's been years since he'd worked a job that kept him on his feet and in constant contact with people all day. He'd forgotten what a luxury it was to be able to sit at a desk.

At 5pm, they close, clean up, and cash out. By the time Patrick is ready to put the cash in the safe, he realizes it’s been a while since he saw David go into the stockroom. When he heads back there himself, he finds David slumped in a chair, head propped up by one of his hands, snoring softly. Patrick goes about his business, the click of the safe opening rousing David from his doze.

“Oh f- sorry. How long was I out?” David mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“2000 years. I’m a cyborg clone of the one you once knew as Patrick Brewer.”

“Hilarious.”

“I thought so.” Patrick comes over to squat in front of him, resting his folded arms across David’s knees. David sits up a little.

“So, I _was_ going to ask if you wanted to go to dinner so we could talk and eat and just… spend some time together outside the store,” David says. “But I’m exhausted and I’d really rather not faceplant into a Cafe Tropical dinner special.”

“Well I think the special tonight is turkey and gravy, so you could just aim for the mashed potatoes.”

“Okay, I’m going to need you to tell me now if you’re trying to moonlight as a stand-up comedian, because that _would_ be a dealbreaker.”

“Well, I’d never really thought about it, but if you think I have a shot…”

Patrick pauses to let loose a giant yawn, which makes David yawn in turn.

“That’s a relief,” David says. “Was starting to worry you actually were a cyborg.”

“Told you I needed coffee this morning,” Patrick says, resting his chin on his folded arms.

“Well how do you explain this little display of athleticism?” He gestures down at Patrick. "I'm trying very hard to not think about how much younger than me you must be if your knees still allow you to do that.”

Patrick looks down at himself. “Oh, I could do this in my sleep. I used to be a catcher.”

David raises an eyebrow. Patrick rolls his eyes.

“For my high school baseball team.”

David grins. “The whole team?”

Patrick stands suddenly, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair so he can loom over David, who is forced to lean back a little.

“I was a utility player, actually.”

“Oh,” David breathes. “So you’d just excel in any position then?”

Patrick opens his mouth, but then ducks his head bashfully.

David squeezes his eyes shut. “Too much?”

Patrick laughs. “Maybe a little.”

“Sorry.”

David watches as Patrick straightens up and holds his hand out. “Don’t be.”

He takes his hand, allowing himself to be pulled from the chair. He doesn’t try to close the space Patrick keeps between them.

“We should call it a night, though,” Patrick says. “You said we could talk whenever. Is that still okay?”

“Yeah, mhm.”

“Then let’s take tomorrow off, rest up, and come back fresh on Monday. I think it’s important that we maintain a steady pace. For the store. So we don’t, you know, run ourselves ragged and  burn out early.”

“Right. For the store. And for…”

“Everything, yeah.”

“Okay.”

They leave together, David locking up behind them. Before they go their separate ways, David leans in and kisses Patrick on the cheek. It’s not much, but Patrick thinks the brief rasp of David’s stubble against his cheek might actually sustain him until Monday.

\---

On Sunday, Patrick sleeps in until an unheard of 9:00am. He makes eggs, toast, and tea for breakfast, showers, and gets dressed for what has become his regular hike.

He spends his ascent brainstorming the perfect date to ask David on when he sees him tomorrow. There aren't a lot of options for dinner and drinks in Schitt's Creek other than the Cafe. There's a bar on the outskirts of town, but that doesn't feel like the right vibe. Ray once mentioned a wine bar, which sounded classy and more David's speed, but he couldn't remember which of neighboring Elms it was located in.

On his way back home, he wonders if getting David flowers would be too much. A single flower? That somehow seems cornier. It definitely couldn't be a rose. He can already imagine David saying, _Oh, how original_ , sarcastic but smiling, because he lets Patrick get away with a lot more than most people. Suddenly, he remembers the receipt from their first sale, forgotten under the register the night of their launch-slash-first-kiss. Patrick passes his exit, heading instead to the framing shop in Elmdale where he’d gotten the frame for the business license. He’ll get it right this time.

That night, Patrick puts on his pajamas and climbs into bed, fully intending to read a little before he goes to sleep. Instead, his book ends up abandoned on his lap as he gets lost down a Yelp rabbit hole looking for potential date spots. He knows he’s overthinking it, but he can’t shut his brain off. He wants this to go right, but has little experience and little room for error. If it doesn’t work out, not only would Patrick be personally devastated, but there's also the store to think about.

He tosses his phone aside and leans back against the pillows, rubbing his tired eyes. _Just ask him to dinner_ , he thinks. _You’ve already done the hardest part. You’re ready for this. Show him that you’re ready._

He almost had the other night, but not in the nice, slow, considerate way. He knows it’s entirely ridiculous to have been turned on by David “I don't play cricket” Rose knowing what a utility player was, especially when his frame of reference was the innuendo and not the actual sport it was based on. But that’s how deep Patrick is in this now. Silly, innocuous things like the way David would eat a pastry in the morning by pulling bits off of it and popping them into his mouth, or straighten the items on a shelf until they were exactly how he wanted them, or understand a sports reference just enough to use it to flirt, all made Patrick want to push him against the nearest wall or table or whatever and kiss him.

He closes his eyes and thinks about how easily he could have kissed him last night, in the dim light of the stockroom. It still overwhelms him to want someone, anyone, the way he wants David. He isn't used to the intensity, the feeling of urgency, and so he’d pulled back. He dozes off, a reel playing in his head of what could have been…

_He kisses him like he should have, confident and consuming, pressing David back into the chair. He can’t straddle David’s lap, because the chair has arms, so eventually he pulls away and yanks him out of the chair by his sweater, drawing him in close before he has time to protest the manhandling of his designer garment. David wraps his arms around him and takes control back, walking Patrick backwards until he hits a wall. He starts unbuttoning his shirt and has to stop when Patrick moves to pull off his sweater and t-shirt. David leaves his shirt hanging open and starts kissing down his neck, down his chest, and then he’s kneeling in front of Patrick, hands on the waistband of his jeans. He looks up for permission and Patrick gives it to him with a nod. David opens his jeans and pulls them down, one hand running deliberately over the front of his tented boxers…_

“Patrick, I can’t find the files for-”

Patrick jolts awake at the sound of Ray letting himself into his room.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ray says. “The light was on, so I thought you would still be up.”

Eyes wide, Patrick looks down at himself and could die from sheer relief when he finds he’d left the large hardcover book he’d been reading open and face down on his lap, obscuring the evidence of the dream he’d been having.

“Yep, I’m… up,” Patrick says. “Um, what’s up?”

\---

On that same Sunday, David wakes up hours before he’d intended to. All night he’d been absolutely plagued by dreams about Patrick, his mouth, his hands, his body pressed up against his. He wakes up _very_ affected by these dreams, which is not ideal given that he shares the room with Alexis. A quick glance around tells him that she’s gone, though, so he gets up, hastily gathers a change of clothes, and locks himself in the bathroom.

He turns on the cold water in the shower first. It’s what he should do, cool down, get a grip, get on with his day. But he hadn’t even had the chance to give Patrick a proper kiss yesterday, even at the end of the day when they’d almost had a moment in the stockroom, and he’s so keyed up he can’t think of anything else. So he turns on the hot water and gets in.

Under the spray, he takes himself in hand, fully intending to make this as efficient as possible. He doesn’t do this very often, usually not inspired enough to risk it when he always has so little privacy. Patrick inspires him quite a bit. He knows that he’s nervous about his lack of experience with men, and David wishes he could find the right words to tell him he has nothing to worry about. The way he holds himself, the way he kisses, the way he teases… well, it’s all driven David to jerking off in a motel room shower, so truly, he has nothing to worry about.

He likes the idea of Patrick going slow with him, just taking his time and exploring. He imagines Patrick coming up behind him while he’s straightening up one of the tables at the store at the end of the day. Maybe his hands start safely on his waist, and he does something sweet like kiss his shoulder, resting his chin there. Then his hands would wander, over his clothes at first, but then, hopefully, under his sweater. He thinks if he instinctively sucked his stomach in, Patrick would tell him to cut it out. He would if it meant Patrick would continue to let his hands roam over his chest. Trapped between the table and Patrick’s body, he hopes he’d be able to feel Patrick’s interest hard against his backside. He’d felt a promising tease of that when they’d made out, and he wanted more. Maybe Patrick did too. Maybe Patrick would undo his pants, agonizingly slow, then reach in to touch him. God, he wants that.

The only problem with this fantasy is that it goes against his theory that Patrick prefers sex face-to-face. So he imagines Patrick turning him around, getting his pants off, and encouraging him to hop up onto the table. He wouldn’t care what they knocked over if it meant getting his legs around Patrick, and getting Patrick’s hand back on him. If he’s nervous or unsure it wouldn’t matter, because David knows he’d be a quick study. It also wouldn’t matter because it’s Patrick. It’s his hands, his smile, his eyes burning into his…

David braces himself against the blue tiled wall as he comes, shuddering and biting his lip to stay quiet. When his brain comes back online he’s annoyed, because a hasty wank in the shower has no business being that intense. It’s all Patrick's fault, and if he knew, he’d probably give David the most infuriating grin, somehow proud and bashful all at once. He’ll never tell him, but finds himself smiling at the thought anyway.

When he exits the bathroom, dressed and rubbing his damp hair with a towel, he jumps at the sight of Alexis, back from a run.

“Are you _done_ , David?” she asks, annoyed.

“I- I didn't know you were waiting!”

“Ughhh.”

She gathers up her change of clothes and heads for the bathroom. “Do I need to let it air out? It's very charitable of you to taste test Twyla’s attempts at Asian fusion, but _woof_ , David.”

“Ew! I wasn't… just go!” he exclaims.

She slams the door, and he supposes that he actually prefers her to have made _that_ assumption.

David eats breakfast for lunch at the Cafe, then goes back to the motel. He tries to flip through some old magazines that Stevie had unearthed from storage, then scrolls through his social media feeds for a while. He wants to text Patrick, but they’re supposed to be taking the day off, from everything. Going slow. David doesn't want to pressure him, or to come off as needy.

So he does the only other thing he can think of, which Patrick would also disapprove of on their one day off: he works. He has a list of vendors he still wants to reach out to, and a few operate on Sundays. He makes some calls and sets up a couple of meetings for the week. That’ll be good, he thinks. It’ll give Patrick a break from him. He'd hate for Patrick to get sick of him, at least this early on.

He goes to bother Stevie until she’s done working for the day. They go to dinner together and he evades her inquiries about Patrick, filling his mouth with fries and milkshake so he doesn't have to voice his growing anxieties.

That night he tosses and turns so much, Alexis throws a pillow at him. He wills himself to lie still. _He wants this. He actually wants you_ , he tells himself. _He’ll tell you when he's ready to._

But even his internal pep talk prefers to err on the side of caution.

_If he changes his mind, at least he'll be nice about it._

\---

On Monday, Patrick loses his nerve. David doesn't push him. He'll try again tomorrow.

On Tuesday, David is out most of the day meeting with a potential vendor. Patrick thinks about texting him to ask him out, but he wants to do it in person.

On Wednesday, something shifts, as if David has quietly resolved to put more space between them.

Patrick doesn’t mean to let _days_ pass. He can only blame so much on work. He got too in his head about where to go, what to do, all the possibilities, what he wants, what David might want. He now realizes that suggesting any date would have been better than saying nothing. Now he’s terrified he’s too late.

At the end of the week, David comes into work particularly agitated. Patrick worries it’s his doing, but after an odd interaction with a customer and David asking if Patrick’s family has ever forgotten his birthday, well…

“I’m kinda piecing together that it might be your birthday?” he says, kicking himself because he knows he has to have seen David’s birthdate on some paperwork at some point.

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, happy birthday! How old are we…?”

The _look_ David gives him. Why did he ask that? This is an opportunity, he should be seizing it.

“Do you have any plans for today or…?"

“Uh, I plan on popping a pill, crying a bit and falling asleep early. So just a regular weeknight.”

“Well, that sounds like fun," he forces out, wounded by the thought of David resolving to spend his birthday alone.

“It is.”

_Now or never._

“You ever tried the Cafe Tropical? I've heard people raving about how ‘moderately edible’ the food is there.”

“Well, yes.”

_Spit it out, Brewer._

“We could… we could go for a birthday dinner.”

David looks surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I- I’d like to.”

There’s an agonizingly long pause before David says, “Sure.”

Patrick can barely hold it together. “Let’s say 8:00?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He’d done it. He’d finally asked David out. They were going on a date. And then he realizes he’d been focusing so hard on not grinning like a maniac or doing a victory dance or something, he’d gone and over-spritzed the produce.

“Those are wet now.”

“That’s a lot of spritzing.”

“I’m gonna dry those off.”

In the stockroom, before retrieving the paper towels, Patrick looks over his shoulder to make sure he’s out of David’s sight and allows himself one elated fist pump.

\---

David doesn’t really want to go to a birthday dinner with Patrick. He’s still trying to settle into the reality that after all the build-up, nothing was going to come of their relationship. There’d been no talk, no plans, no more flirting or kissing. Just amicable, work-related conversation. It could be worse, he supposes. He’d known, hadn’t he? That Patrick wasn’t going to be cruel about it.

He doesn’t want him to be this nice either, though. It feels like pity, which makes him feel sick. He texts Stevie to join them. If this is going to be a just-friends affair, he wants to make it clear that he has more than Patrick.

At 8:00, when David walks into the Cafe, he finds Patrick already seated in a booth, wearing a nice jacket. There's a gift bag next to him. That’s cute of him. He sits down and the jokes come easy, like they’d been holding back all week and now Patrick is volleying every quip back at him like it’s a round of ping pong. It gives David false hope, and he’s relieved when Stevie shows up.

Patrick excuses himself to the bathroom, and Stevie takes his place in the booth.

“Happy birthday,” Stevie says, and David doesn’t understand what this tone is that she’s using.

“Thank you.”

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

Stevie looks at the gift bag in the booth next to her. “Because he bought you a present. It's very nicely wrapped. So… I think I'm crashing a date.”

“Oh no. No no. It’s been days. He’s over it. He just felt bad for me, so that’s why he-”

“He thinks you guys were here, one-on-one,” she interrupts. “He brought you a present. I didn't even get you a present.”

“No, I noticed that.”

“Do you want me to look?”

“No I don't want you to look!”

“Okay, I'll just say this.” She puts the gift bag on the table. “If there's anything remotely sentimental in here, he is on a date with you right now.”

David covers his face with both hands. “Why, why now? Why wait all week to-”

“David. You didn’t say anything either.”

“Okay, I was trying to give him space!”

“Maybe you gave him too much space. This is new for him, right? I get that you wanted to ease him into it, but maybe he needs you to steer a little.”

“I did. I kissed him. It was too much-”

“ _David_ ,” she says again, more firmly. “He’s here for you. He just needs you to meet him halfway. Trust me. He’s going to appreciate it.”

David watches Stevie and swears she suddenly looks a little embarrassed. Like she’s speaking from personal experience, which is not something she does, almost ever.

“Is there something we should be talking about here?” David asks.

Stevie schools her expression and opens her menu. “Nope. You’ve gotta be at least a level-10 friend to unlock the details of my tragic romantic past.”

“My god, what level am I now, and how exactly do I advance?”

She smiles at him. “You could start by taking my advice.”

Behind them, they hear the bathroom door.

“Pull yourself together, Rose,” she whispers as Patrick rejoins them.

“Oh, I see you found my present,” he says.

Stevie encourages David to open it, while Patrick insists repeatedly that it’s nothing. David pulls a simple, but tasteful black frame out of the bag. Inside it is a receipt.

“What is it?” Stevie asks. David already knows.

“Oh, it's just the receipt from our first sale at the store,” Patrick says.

Stevie’s face is projecting what David is feeling. He’s _moved_. In his gallery work, in his old life, David had often been moved by art. Occasionally, he’d sought out the artist, tried to connect with them the way he’d connected with their work. It always fizzled out, the current that ran between him and the art never quite extending to the person behind it. He runs a hand over the edge of the frame, gazing at the receipt. Their first sale, 2017. Ink on thermal paper. He looks up at Patrick. All the points connect.

“Um, this is not nothing. So thank you.”

Patrick gives him the softest little smile, and he wants to lean across the table and kiss it. It’s then that Twyla shows up with the mozzarella stick platter they’d been joking about ordering earlier. Stevie takes that opportunity to make a swift exist, giving David one more enthusiastic thumbs up.

And then it’s just the two of them. The mozzarella sticks could be worse, so they take a chance and order more finger foods to share. It’s the greasiest, least sophisticated dinner date he’s ever had and he’s never had a better time. When Twyla leaves the check on their table David reaches for it, one of the last remaining reflexes he hasn’t unlearned because he hasn’t been on a proper date since losing everything. Patrick stops him by placing his hand over his.

“Are you trying to pay for your own birthday dinner? What kind of monster do you think I am?”

David brings his other hand up to cover Patrick’s, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles.

“Well, technically, since I pay your salary, I’d be paying either way.”

“Hm, well, then I guess the gesture will have to be enough.”

Patrick squeezes one of his hands, then slips the check out from under his palm, winking as he gets up to pay. David watches him openly as he walks up to the register.

\---

Patrick drives him home. When they pull up to the motel, David doesn't move to leave. Patrick doesn't say anything.

_Meet him halfway._

“Well that was a fun night,” David tries.

Patrick looks grateful, earnest, when he says, “I’m really glad I decided to invest in your business, David.”

“...that is a really lovely thing to say,” David says, taken aback by the sincerity.

“And I'm so glad you did, Patrick, because you've really helped to turn it into the success that it is,” Patrick fills in for him.

David smirks. “Hmm. A bold claim.”

They lapse into silence again, and David has reached the end of his resolve. He’s spent a lot of his life being a moth to the flame of other people - people he wanted, people he wanted to be. But the magnetism he feels now, the force that makes it seem easier to lean in than to stay where he is, is different. There’s no trace of the emptiness or desperation that colored his past experiences. So he gives into the pull.

He shifts forward, giving Patrick time to react. He does, eyes falling to David lips, so David closes the gap, a gentle hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a slow, sweet kiss. When they part, Patrick takes a moment to collect himself, then smiles.

“Thank you.”

David shakes his head a little. “For what?”

“I thought I’d waited too long. I was starting to think I’d dreamt this all up, and if I made a move, I’d find out I’d be wrong about everything.” He huffs a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d let you leave another night without… so, um, thank you, for making that happen for us.”

David is momentarily overwhelmed by his affection for this man, who had been confident enough to invest in a fledgling business and confess his feelings for him in nearly the same breath, but still questioned the thing he wanted once he had it. It's an uncertainty born out of trial and error, and error, and error. David can relate. But they’re here now. Somehow, that hope he’d been so afraid of had won out.

“I don’t know why, but um… I feel like maybe we were always going to end up here,” David says.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t imagine you as the type to believe in fate.”

He’s not, is the thing. But now he’s looking at Patrick’s warm brown eyes and gently teasing smile, and he thinks about what it took to get to this moment. Losing everything, moving here, the failed attempt to sell the town, the job at Blouse Barn, the check from Wendy that allowed him to lease the General Store after it went under, Patrick also moving here, getting hired by Ray. God, should he send Ray a thank you gift? He may have even considered sending one to Eli, if they had any idea where he was.

“No, mm-mm,” David denies anyway. “I just mean that it’s kind of a common thing for these revelatory moments of self-discovery to happen in a car.” When Patrick gives him a questioning look, he continues, “I had my first kiss with a guy in his car. And he’d had his first kiss with a guy in that guy’s car. And I came out to Alexis when I was driving her home after one of her little… expeditions. She already knew of course, but…”

He trails off, and Patrick nods thoughtfully.

“But, wait,” Patrick says. “I already came out to you. We already kissed. So are you calling going on a date with you a ‘revelatory moment of self-discovery’?”

“Um…” It actually pains David to fight the smile that's threatening to take over his face, but he wants a turn at giving Patrick a hard time. “Is this a date? Like, officially, is that what we’re calling it?”

Patrick just smiles at him for a moment, then unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. David watches him as he walks around the front of the car and opens David’s door. David takes off his seatbelt and climbs out.

“What a gentleman,” David says.

Patrick closes the door, wraps his arms around David’s waist, backs him up against the car, and kisses him, slow and lush. David wraps his arms around Patrick’s neck and kisses him back, the gift bag swinging from his wrist. When they break apart, they stay wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I stand corrected,” David says, his voice a soft rumble.

“That was a perfectly gentlemanly kiss,” Patrick insists.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Has no one ever told you you kiss like you’re an expert in the field?”

“‘An expert in the field’? Kinda sounds like a nice way of insinuating that I’ve… been around the block.”

That sounds so bizarre coming out of Patrick’s mouth, David can’t help smiling even as he shakes his head vehemently. “Absolutely not! Though it would be a nice change to be the one doing the insinuating rather than being… the insinuated.”

Patrick frowns. “David…”

“Shh shh, it’s fine,” David says, leaning in to kiss him again. He pulls back just enough to speak again. “I should go. My whole family is right on the other side of those doors.”

“Oh, well I should walk you to your room and say goodnight-” Patrick turns like he’s going to do just that, but David pulls him back in.

“Nooo no no no.”

“I should show your parents what a gentleman I am getting you home at a decent hour.”

“Stop it, we’re not in high school.”

“Well to be fair you won’t say how old you are, so-”

“Okay, goodnight!” David says, pulling away. Patrick catches his hand and turns him back to him.

“Can we talk tomorrow?” Patrick asks. “And I do actually mean tomorrow, I promise.”

“I hope so. There’s the matter of our second date to discuss.”

“Because this was our first date.”

“Yes, it was.” David kisses him on the cheek one last time. As he starts walking backwards toward his room, he adds, “And I definitely knew. That it was a date.”

“Uh-huh. Tell that to Stevie.”

“Goodnight, Patrick!"

"Happy birthday, David."

David turns back to give Patrick one more smile before disappearing into his room.

\---

Patrick drives back to Ray's on autopilot. He parks, but doesn't get out right away. He has no idea how long he just sits there, smiling at the steering wheel. This is what this was supposed to feel like. Like the moment he gets out of the car, he might just float away.

When Patrick had moved to Schitt's Creek, found a job and a place to live, started this new chapter of his life, he hadn't really known what he was hoping to find. Change, sure, in a broad sense. He knew he needed to find that change for himself, but he never could have predicted this. He never could have predicted there was someone out there, someone so eccentric and different from anyone he'd ever known, who would make him feel so right. He never could have predicted David.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was initially the end of the story, but even after all this, I wanted more fluff and more smooching and a little more fooling around, so the next and actual final chapter is an alternate take on "Dead Guy in Room 4."
> 
> If you've read this far, THANK YOU. ❤️


	6. Epilogue: A Little Bit Closer

The matter of their second date is decided by the death of a guest at the motel.

Patrick doesn’t know about that initially, so when David suggests a sleepover, he panics. He’s ecstatic that David wants to… with him… but the immediate prospect of his first time with a man is intimidating enough to make him slam on the brakes.

It takes overhearing Mrs. Rose confess her presumed fault in the death to make him remember the circumstances of his life. He’s living in a town that's literally called Schitt’s Creek, where he'd only just figured out he's gay at the age of 30, and is now dating the son of a former video store magnate and soap star, who wears $600 pullovers and lives with his sister in a motel room. Some days, he feels like if he looked over his shoulder and saw cameras and a live studio audience, he wouldn’t be surprised. It somehow makes more sense that David needs refuge from a morbid situation at the motel, and was not actually trying to have sex with him.

Patrick tries to ignore the little part of him that’s disappointed, but later ends up apologizing for assuming that David wanted to come over to sleep with him. Based on the way David smiles, he’s being as transparent has he thinks he is. He extends an invitation to stay over anyway, suggesting they make a date of it. He half expects David to decline, but instead he says, in that low, intimate voice that makes Patrick’s stomach somersault, “That sounds really nice.”

\---

After all of Patrick’s frantic Yelp searches, their first date had ended up being mozzarella sticks at the Cafe, and their second consists of pasta and wine in Ray’s dining room. He wouldn’t trade either night for anything.

After dinner, they sit unnecessarily close to each other at the dining room table while they have the two slices of chocolate cake David had brought with him from the Cafe for dessert.

“You know, we’re missing out on a very cute opportunity all because you refuse to share dessert,” Patrick says.

“That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” David replies around a large bite, holding his hand in front of his mouth demurely.

Patrick smirks at him, then reaches over with his fork and steals a bite of David’s cake. David gasps, then steals a bite of Patrick’s. Patrick goes to do it again, but David is ready this time and knocks his hand away once, twice, and then the third time, Patrick leans in and kisses him. It’s a little sticky, but David doesn’t protest. In fact, he drops his fork onto the table so he can slide his hand up the side of Patrick’s neck. Patrick smiles so widely, David has to pull away.

“What?”

Patrick leans back in his chair and pokes at his cake with his fork for a moment, before looking back up at David.

“You know, when you kissed me, that first time in the store, it felt like my _first_ time. All the things you’re supposed to feel… I felt them. I kind of haven’t stopped feeling them, actually.”

David fiddles with the stem of his wine glass. “Well, if we're being honest with each other, it was sort of like my first time, too.”

Patrick gives him a look, so he clarifies, “I mean it wasn’t, I've kissed like a thousand people, but nobody that I cared about or respected or thought was… nice. So, in a way, it's like we're both starting something new.”

Relief and overwhelming affection wash over Patrick. “Thank you, David.”

David smiles, but can’t seem to bring himself to look Patrick in the eye. He knows just how to reel him back in.

“And hey, for the record, I also respect you and think you’re a good person.”

David looks up. “It’s just I said ‘nice’ person.”

“I know,” Patrick says, placing his hands on David’s knees and leaning in. David lets out a soft _oh_ right before their lips meet.

“I just need you to say ‘nice person’,” David says when they part again.

“You’re a _good_ person.”

“That’s not nice.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Hmm.”

Patrick kisses him again, a little deeper. This time, both of David’s hands cradle Patrick’s face, and he licks into Patrick’s mouth. Patrick’s whole body flashes hot and he tries to chase the feeling, but David pulls away.

“I guess if you don’t think I’m nice, there’s no point trying to be.”

Patrick rises fully out of his chair and engulfs David in another kiss, his hands on David’s face this time. David lets out a soft moan and Patrick is wondering if he could get away with climbing onto David’s lap when the lock on the front door clicks. Patrick falls back into his seat.

“I thought you said he was going to be late!” David whispers as Ray comes in and turns the corner right into the dining room.

“Ray! You’re back early!” Patrick says as kindly as he can manage. “How was the wedding?”

“Evening, gentlemen! Oh, it was a disaster,” Ray says, tone remaining cheerful. “The bride and groom both went missing for hours. Turns out, they’d both decided to leave each other at the altar! I still got paid to photograph the rest of the bridal party, so I’m calling it a win.”

“That’s great… I think,” Patrick says.

“So…” Ray says, gesturing at the two of them. “I guess the rumors are true then?”

“Rumors?” Patrick asks.

“That you two are the hot new couple in town!” Ray seems delighted, which is nice.

“Mm, who needs tabloids when you live in a town the size of a postage stamp?” David asks, fake-laughing along with Ray’s genuine laughter.

“Well, don’t let me interrupt,” Ray says, heading into the kitchen. He keeps talking, though, regaling them with tales from other messy weddings he’d had to photograph in the past. They finish their cake and wine quickly and excuse themselves.

\---

When Patrick returns to his room after his turn in the bathroom, David has claimed the same side of the bed he had when he first stayed over, but he’s laying on his back looking at his phone, rather than curling up on his side.

“Can I turn this off?” Patrick asks like last time, hand on the lamp switch.

“Mhm,” David replies, putting his phone down and turning off the lamp on his side too, as Patrick gets in under the covers next to him.

They both lie there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling.

“I may have underestimated how weird this would be,” Patrick confesses.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ve never slept wi- I mean, I’ve never shared a bed with someone I was dating this early on."

“Mhm, that’s why it’s weird,” David says. “Definitely not because normally I’d be sleeping with a person for the second time by this point, if we were having a second date at all.”

“Well I’d definitely take this over not having a second date with you.”

They're quiet again for a moment, then David asks, “Are you tired?”

“Not really.”

“Is there anything you’d… like to do?”

Even under the cover of the dark room, Patrick feels too exposed, his heart rate kicking up several notches. But as is his way, he perseveres.

“I um… I want to touch you,” he confesses in a rush. “But I don’t know where to start. And I'm not sure I'd know where to stop.”

He feels David turn over to face him. He stays on his back, but turns his head apprehensively to find David looking at him, open and confident.

“I could make a suggestion,” David says, taking Patrick’s right hand and encouraging him to turn on his side to face him. He guides that hand to his side, then places his own hand on Patrick's upper arm. Patrick watches his movements and then looks up, their faces close.

“Do you want to set any, um… ground rules?” David asks.

“Um…” Patrick breathes. “C-clothes stay on. Hands above the waist?”

David waits a beat. “Is that all?”

“You _want_ more rules?”

“Nope, just making sure,” David says, and then he's kissing him, deep and languorous, sliding his hand up from his arm to the nape of his neck.

Patrick tilts his head, determined to give as good as he's getting. He doesn't even notice the grip he has on David's shirt until David's hand covers his and coaxes him to let go. He's about to apologize, assuming David is trying to rescue his probably-expensive t-shirt, but then David is guiding his hand back to his side, this time under his shirt. He leaves Patrick's hand there and returns his own to cradle Patrick's head as he continues to kiss him.

Patrick's hand flexes and tightens on David's side, his skin soft and so warm under his fingers. They’re both still clothed and all hands are safely north, but this is a hell of a loophole and Patrick is grateful for David’s obvious brilliance in finding it. At first, he doesn’t know what to do next, but then David's tongue is in his mouth again, and that emboldens him. He shifts so he has room to slide his hand up the middle of David's chest.

He's not surprised to find a generous amount of hair there. He's seen a tease of it when David wears less structured sweaters, ones where the collars sit a little lower. And now he has it under his hand, and he’s gently scratching his nails down through it, and it’s kind of fucking awesome. He thinks about saying so, since he knows David gets a kick out of his sparse use of profanities, but he can’t bring himself to break the kiss, especially not when David is trying to press impossibly closer to him. His movements cause Patrick’s hand to shift, and the next time he runs it down David’s chest, his fingers brush one of his nipples. David lets out a choked little gasp against Patrick lips and his hips twitch forward.

“Sorry,” David gasps out. His eyes are squeezed shut, so he doesn’t see Patrick biting his lip and smiling mischievously, and doesn’t anticipate Patrick doing it again, deliberately, circling his nipple with his thumb. He turns his face into his pillow and groans.

It’s at that moment that they hear footsteps in the hall, and the sound of Ray talking on his cellphone. Patrick shushes him and David clamps a hand over his mouth. By the sound of it, Ray has paused in the hall just past Patrick’s door for whatever reason, as he continues to chat away. David is watching the door, listening. Patrick is listening too, but he’s also letting his hand wander again and this time, he pinches David’s nipple. David makes a muffled sound into his hand, eyelids fluttering shut before snapping open again to glare at Patrick.

Finally, Ray proceeds down the hall, and they hear his door open and shut. David drops his hand from his face.

“I take it back,” he says. “You’re not very nice at all.”

“You didn’t like that?” Patrick asks with faux innocence.

David fixes him with a look that makes him shiver, then shifts to press up against him, this time throwing his leg over Patrick’s hip. Patrick’s breath catches and his hand drops. He barely grazes David’s thigh before pulling back, realizing that that would be breaking his rule. He grabs the front of David’s shirt instead and doesn’t have time to process the look of intent in David’s eyes before David is turning them, Patrick settling on his back with David on top of him.

Patrick holds onto David’s shirt for dear life. One of David’s legs is between both of his, and the slight pressure of his thigh against his crotch is so tantalizing, he has to put a lot of effort into not just humping his leg right then and there. David is panting a little, like he’s holding back too.

“Is this-?” he starts, but Patrick cuts him off with a hand on the back of his head, pulling him in for a searing, affirmative kiss. David drops to brace himself on his forearms instead of his hands, pressing more of his weight into Patrick’s body. David rocks into him a little when he moves, and there’s no way he doesn’t feel how hard he’s making Patrick now. Patrick moves his hands down to the hem of David's shirt, then slides them up his back under the fabric.

David hums happily against his lips, and the next time his tongue coaxes Patrick's out to play, he sucks on it. Patrick inhales sharply and arches into David, his nails digging into his back. He's kissed a fair number of girls in his day, and none of them had ever done _that_. To be fair, he's never thought to try that himself either. Now, though, he eagerly returns the favor, and David rewards him with the press of his own clothed erection against his thigh.

It's not enough.

Patrick bends the knee of the leg he has between David's just enough to bring his thigh into more solid contact with David and, _oh god_ , he can really feel him now, just as hard as he is. It makes him dizzy.

It's still not enough

Without thinking, his hands drop lower to grip David's ass, pulling him in as he thrusts up. David breaks their kiss as a gasp that ends in a high, surprised moan escapes him.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Patrick breathes, thrusting up again.

“Uh-huh,” David gasps out encouragingly. He’s moving his hips with purpose now too, burying his face in Patrick's neck.

He feels _so good_ with David's solid weight on top of him, his hot breath against his neck, the pleasure between his legs building, spreading, lighting up his whole body.

It's too much.

“Stop.” It comes out as just an exhale, and Patrick has to search for his voice, hands moving to push at David's shoulders. “Stop stop stop, David-”

David pulls back quickly. “What is it, are you okay?”

Patrick tries to speak, but can only manage a desperate, frustrated sound. David is searching his face in the dark, trying to figure it out, and Patrick has to squeeze his eyes shut.

“Did you… um…”

Patrick shakes his head. “No. But I was gonna.” He opens his eyes and his hands tighten on David's shirt at the sight of him disheveled, lips parted, staring at him so intently. “ _God_ , I still might.”

“Do you want to? It’s okay if you do. It’s more than okay.”

“I… I uh… I don’t… I don't know…”

“Okay.” David sits up a little more. “If you’re not sure, I think it's better if we stop for now. Is that okay?”

Patrick can't look at David, but he nods.

“Okay,” David whispers, rolling off of him so they're laying side-by-side. He doesn't go far, their arms still touching, and Patrick is comforted by that.

He takes a deep breath and hears David do the same. Arousal is still fizzling through him and he's not used to that. Not just the too fast and too much, but the sustained feeling. _Think about baseball_. That's a thing, right? A way guys rein it in when they're too on-edge. He's never needed to calm himself down like this before. _Think about baseball_. What base had they gotten to here? He feels like he'd gotten himself into a pickle, and getting tagged out was his own fault.

Were they still operating on the same scoring system? He supposes so. Sex before could still have been considered a homerun. Going, going, gone. Just over the wall into the stands. Now, Patrick is going, going, still going, and if the ball had landed, so to speak, he's pretty sure it would have been out of the stadium, into the parking lot, possibly into another county.

 _David in a baseball uniform_ , his brain provides. Maybe thinking about baseball isn't the right strategy.

He shuts his eyes and breathes. _Spreadsheets. Order forms. Those cat hair scarves. The first and last time he ordered soup go-to from the Cafe and Twyla presented it to him in a bag. Ray barging into his room the other night_.

"Okay," Patrick says. "I'll be right back."

"Okay. I'll be here."

Patrick sits up and winces. _Dammit_. They may have stopped short, but he's still definitely going to need to change. He's glad it's dark and David can't see him blush as he hastily grabs a change of underwear before heading to the bathroom.

\---

When Patrick returns, David is sitting on the bed waiting, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, the lamp on his side turned on. He squeezes Patrick shoulder on his way to take a turn in the bathroom, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Patrick tosses his laundry in the hamper and finds another pair of pajama pants to put on. He climbs back into bed and momentarily considers pulling the blankets over his head and hiding, but that’s not really his style. So he sits up against the headboard and waits.

David comes back a few minutes later, going first to his overnight bag. He stuffs something in the side pocket, and Patrick realizes it’s his underwear. He’d gotten worked up enough that he’d had to change too. Through his embarrassment, he feels a tiny spark of pride.

David joins him back in bed, sitting up against the headboard too.

“You okay?”

Patrick nods. “You?”

“Mhm.”

After a beat, Patrick covers his face with his hands. “I'm sorry.”

“No no no.” David tugs at one of his arms and Patrick drops his hands. “Don't be.”

“You asked me to set rules and then I broke them.”

“You broke one,” David corrects. “And I didn't exactly stop you, did I? I would have, you know. If I'd felt like I needed to, I would've told you to stop. I, um… I feel like I can tell you that."

The memory of Sebastien Raine’s smug face flashes in Patrick’s mind. He pushes it away.

“You can. You always can,” he assures David.

“So can you. And I never want you to feel like you have to apologize or explain why if you want to stop anything we’re doing.”

With the exception of Sebastien, neither of them have really gone into detail about their romantic pasts, so David can’t possibly know just how much that means to him. His own previous experiences had never involved outwardly cruel partners, but there had been a lot of anxiety around sex. He was good at the giving part, and didn't mind so much since he enjoyed making his partners feel good. But inevitably, when he’d denied reciprocation too long, whoever he was seeing would take it as some fault of her own. He could deny it, but then she’d still want to know why he didn’t want her and he just hadn’t known. He knows now.

“Thank you,” he says, practically a whisper. He doesn’t want to get into it, not now, but he hopes David understands that this is important to him too.

David smiles and leans in for a gentle, achingly sweet kiss. He pulls back, giving him one last peck like he just can’t help it, then reaches over to turn off the lamp so they can settle back in, laying on their sides to face each other.

“Thank you for letting me stay here. Again,” David says.

“You're welcome,” Patrick says. “And I promise if I wake up to you cuddling me, I won't pretend to sleep through it this time.”

David gasps. “You were awake for that?”

“It wasn’t for long. I just didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

“Well I’m embarrassed now! I can’t believe you didn't tell me. See if I cuddle with you now.”

“Doesn't seem like that's up to you.”

“Okay.”

“You just unconsciously gravitated toward me-”

“Uh-huh, okay, goodnight!”

David rolls over on his other side, facing away from Patrick. Patrick takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around David, snuggling into the role of big spoon. Not only does David not object, he actually relaxes in Patrick's hold, placing his hand over Patrick's where it rests on his chest. Patrick kisses his shoulder, inhaling that woody scent of David's shampoo that he loves so much.

\---

Patrick wakes up uncomfortably warm. When he opens his eyes, he finds that it's because this time, he's the one plastered to David's side. The blankets have been kicked off of them and are bunched up at the foot of the bed. He doesn’t understand how David can run this hot and wear sweaters year round.

He’s momentarily mortified when he realizes that sometime in the night, his hand found its way back under David's shirt and is resting directly on his chest. But then his eyes wander down to where his shirt is lifted up to accommodate his hand, exposing a bit of his stomach. He's transfixed by the bit of happy trail he can see before it disappears into David's sweatpants. He's thinking about how long it might be before he's confident enough to kiss him there when he realizes he should probably move before David wakes up.

He tips his head up to look at David. His eyes are closed and his breathing is even, but Patrick swears he can see a hint of a smile on his face. He watches for several seconds until he catches a nearly imperceptible twitch of David's mouth. Patrick responds by brushing his thumb over one of David’s nipples. David’s whole body jerks and his face scrunches up as he makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

“You're a menace,” he says, his voice delightfully rumbly.

“And you're not a very good actor.”

“Tell that to the casting director of the Lifetime movie I had to back out of due to scheduling conflicts.”

When Patrick doesn't say anything further, David turns his head to look at him with a soft, “Hi.”

“Hi. I can’t believe you’re conscious at this hour.”

“Mm, well you were staring so hard I could feel it.”

Patrick blushes, but doesn’t turn away. “I can’t help that you’re nice to look at.”

David rolls his eyes with a bashful smile.

“And I’m taking what I can get now,” Patrick continues, “because I think after this, we should probably cool it on the sleepovers until we’re both… ready for sleepovers.”

“Well, I wish I could say that there will be no more lice outbreaks or deaths at the motel, but those just aren’t promises I can make.”

It’s terrible, but Patrick can’t help laughing.

“But no, that’s fine, obviously,” David says. “Take all the time you need.”

Patrick sits up a little more, leaning an arm on David’s chest and resting his chin on it.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that, because I think I’m gonna need a _lot_ of time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, lots of soul-searching. Meditation. Obviously I’ll have to read _The Joy of Gay Sex_ from cover to cover. And that is not a light read.”

David is grinning. “Why do you know that?”

“Well, David, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I am recently gay.”

The declaration feels foreign, but exciting. He's not ready to shout it from the rooftops, but he thinks he likes saying it here, in bed, to the man who has made a lot of things make sense for the first time in his life.

“Right, so did they just mail you a copy of the book with your gay card?”

“Obviously.”

Patrick leans up to kiss David as he laughs, but David turns his head away.

“Morning breath!” he grumbles.

“Me or you?”

“Both, probably.”

When David turns back to look at him, Patrick blinks up at him with a sad little pout. David grumbles some more.

“That’s not gonna work on me forever,” he says, tugging on Patrick’s shirt to urge him up.

“We’ll see about that.”

They kiss, warm and slow, until Patrick’s fingers are itching to get under David’s clothes again. He pulls back.

“Yeah, you should probably brush your teeth.”

“Okay you know what?” David turns over to face away from Patrick. “ _You_ brush your teeth, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Nope!” Patrick says, getting out of bed and going around to David’s side. “Since you're here, we should go into work together.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” David mumbles into his pillow.

“Well anyone with a fiber of common sense-”

David grabs Patrick by the hand and pulls him back into bed. They end up a giggling heap of limbs, and Patrick is trying to disentangle himself when the door bursts open.

“Good morning!” Ray says from the doorway.

“Oh my god!” David exclaims as he pulls the covers his head.

“Ray!” Patrick says, sitting up. “Could you at _least_ knock?”

“So sorry,” Ray says. “Didn’t think I’d be interrupting anything this early in the relationship.”

There’s another muffled _oh my god_ from David under the covers.

“We weren’t… did you need something?” Patrick asks.

“Oh no, I just wanted to let you know that you could help yourselves to the morning buns in the box downstairs. I hit the bakery early, so they’re fresh.”

“Okay, thank you Ray.”

“Of course. Door open or closed?”

“Closed.”

“Of course.” Ray is almost gone when he pokes his head back in one more time to say, “It’s very nice that you two found each other.”

With that, he closes the door. David reemerges from the blankets.

“Well good news, I will now also require some time before we try this sleepover thing again,” he says.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Morning buns, though.”

Patrick smiles at him. “You have to get up if you want one.”

“Or, you could bring them up here and we could have breakfast in bed,” he suggests, rubbing one of Patrick’s arms.

Patrick leans in and kisses him once before climbing out of bed again.

“Go downstairs and eat while I shower.”

David is still grumbling when Patrick leaves the room, but once he’s showered and dressed, Patrick heads downstairs and finds him at the dining room table, scrolling on his phone and eating a bun. He’s also set out a bun on a plate for Patrick, next to a mug of steeping tea. Patrick smiles fondly at David as he joins him at the table. David doesn’t look up from his phone, but he smiles too.

Patrick looks over at the next room and thinks how surreal it is that they'd met right there, not all that long ago. He was used to clients not really knowing how to fill out their incorporation paperwork - that's what Patrick was there for. But that first conversation with David had been a whole character study, and Patrick had fallen for him faster than he could even understand that that's what was happening. And now that animated, stubborn man is here again, just one room over, having a quiet breakfast with him after spending the night.

He's pulled from his reverie by the jingle of an alarm from David's phone. David taps it off.

"That's five minutes for your tea," he says. "I don't know how strong you like it…"

"That's perfect, thank you," Patrick says, taking the tea bag out and putting it on his plate.

David clears his throat. "Guess I should go shower, if you're insisting that we both get in on time."

He pops the last bite of his pastry in his mouth and stands. Before he can leave, Patrick catches the hem of his shirt and tugs him down for a quick, sugary kiss. David lingers for a second, their noses brushing, before he pulls away and leaves with a final squeeze of Patrick's shoulder.

Patrick picks at his pastry, smiling to himself. It's possible that David was right when he said that maybe they were always going to end up here, but he's glad he took the chance and spoke up when he did anyway. He'd spent so long doubting and blaming himself for the disconnect in his relationships, but here, now, in Schitt's Creek with David Rose, he's beginning to think that love may be in the cards for him after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazingly, the title was inspired by Tegan and Sara's "Closer", and not by the same line in Carly Rae Jepsen's "Want You in My Room."
> 
> I don't normally have a beta or anything to read over my stuff, but shout out to my partner who did read all the way through this one, more than once, and hopefully caught all the times I left the second "o" off of "too" (which is my go-to typo, apparently).
> 
> That's all! Thank you thank you thank you for reading! ❤️
> 
> Oh, and now that authors have officially been revealed, I should add: Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://fraudulentzodiac.tumblr.com/) if you'd like!


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